Technicolor Dream
by Miss Pennyfeather
Summary: Basically, this is a rewrite of the Fourth Season, with a different ending. Starting from I Loathe a Parade, from Trent's point of view. Daria/Trent because I didn't really like the Daria-Tom-Jane triangle
1. Chapter 1

_1: Aftermath of the Parade_

They were out of beer, or any form of beverage. So he had to go out and buy some more. Janey was off with Tom somewhere. Probably at the parade.

He had always tried avoiding the horrible parade. When he was fourteen, he was in the marching band. He had had to walk down those streets wearing a silly helmet and playing loud songs. He didn't want to remember those things. He had erased that person.

But he was damn thirsty. Sure, he wouldn't get up if the house was on fire, but this was different. This involved more important needs.

He put on a shirt he had around the room, took his car keys though he wouldn't need them and left the house. As he approached the town centre, he could hear the brash noise coming from the carts.

And all of a sudden he saw this huge crowd in front of him. Everyone had turned up to see the parade, young and old. There were many high schoolers and teachers, many of those bohemian artists that threw paint everywhere, there were creepy mascots and cheerleaders.

It all came back to him in painful memories. But he told himself he had chosen to come.

He passed by a couple of shops without going in. He just walked with his head in the ground, thinking about his band and their gig tonight. Maybe he'd just sleep it over. It was becoming a drag, a common routine. Even singing was a common routine. What was there left? He was twenty-three and he hadn't seen the world.

He looked up and saw something that caught his eye. He knew that green jacket from somewhere.

Daria!

What was she doing at a homecoming parade? Had she got lost? She would never come here willingly, he thought.

He was going to go say hi when suddenly he saw who she was with. Tom was at her side, smiling. They were walking together, talking. And they seemed to have fun.

He stared at them confused. If they were here…where was Janey? Maybe she was looking for them, maybe they were going together.

But it didn't look like that at all. It didn't look as if Daria was the third person. It seemed she was the first to Tom. Or second. In any case, they seemed close.

He watched his expression. He genuinely seemed to like her. He seemed to like her presence. He even made her smile.

Trent felt some worry for Janey in the back of his mind, but he felt worried for Daria just as much. Maybe it was the "my little sister's best friend" syndrome.

He didn't know why but there was a strange feeling taking over him. Like Daria was in danger, or something as strange as that. Like she was very far away from him, even though she was some feet away.

He knew it was stupid; she was just hanging out with Tom. Tom was no threat. Well, not when he went out with Janey. For some reason, he was okay with him and Janey being intimate. But he wasn't okay with this. He wasn't okay with Tom being overly friendly with Daria.

Maybe he was just being friendly though…maybe Trent was exaggerating. However, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this wasn't okay. Even if they were just walking and talking.

Someone took a photo of them. He chuckled and turned away bitterly.

Would he tell Janey? What would she say?

* * *

The very next day, Daria came by Jane's house. Trent watched her climb up the stairs from the kitchen. He knew Tom was supposed to show up soon. They would probably go for pizza.

Maybe he should watch them carefully. But then again, he had better things to do. He couldn't decide if he should care about this or not.

His instinct said yes. His current state said no. It wasn't his business, he had no share in it.

He waited for an hour or so in his room, playing his guitar half-heartedly, thinking up a new song that sounded more like a Blink 182 cover and then he got up to check if they had left.

They had. The house was empty and quiet.

So he went to the pizza place himself, not knowing exactly what he was doing.

He was maybe a little bit curious. I mean, would they talk about their rendezvous yesterday? He had heard Janey had found them eventually in the crowd, but then only Tom and Janey came back to her house later that day.

So what had happened exactly?

* * *

His assumption had been correct; they were at their favourite pizza place. He went straight to their table. Jane's eyes widened.

'Trent, what are you doing up so early? Did the wind breeze wake you?'

'Nah, I just felt hungry,' he muttered. 'I figured you guys would be here.'

Tom was sitting casually beside Jane and Daria sat on the opposite seat, chewing on her slice of pizza. She only nodded towards Trent, her mouth full.

'Well, do join us, we don't mind,' Tom said pointing at the spot next to Daria.

He sat down next to her, looking at Tom intently.

A couple of awkward minutes passed in which no one said anything.

'So, did you guys watch last night's Sick Sad World special: NFL stands for Nocturnal Furry Ladybirds?' Daria asked.

'Oh, didn't manage to catch that,' Jane said.

'I think I did,' Tom answered quickly. 'I couldn't find anything better to do, what with Elsie throwing a tantrum about her ruined Prada shoes. I swear she sometimes reminds me of Quinn though to be fair, with more brains. Anyway, it was a bit disturbing when they got to "the dissection of a footballer's brain – the real anatomy".

'Oh, that was my favourite part. Though I hope none of those hamsters were harmed in the process.'

Tom laughed. 'Yeah, those cute fur balls. Who knew that most of them were working double shift in those guys' brains?'

'I've been preaching this since the beginning of time, but has anyone listened?' Daria countered.

'Next time we'll ask Kevin if he can hear a rodent in his mind,' Jane added rather bored.

'Oh that's just Brittany,' Daria answered. And on cue Tom laughed again.

Trent coughed in his peculiar way, hiding his chuckle.

He was watching their interaction as if he was watching an interesting soap on TV. It was obvious to the biggest of idiots that Tom and Daria didn't hate each other anymore. They didn't even have the slightest dislike for each other. They liked each other, alright.

So probably Tom hadn't minded walking with Daria at the parade.

'So, did you guys have fun at the parade?' he suddenly asked.

'I didn't so much. Someone threw paint on me and I looked like a psychedelic rainbow,' Daria answered quickly.

'Yeah, but there were some key moments, you have to admit,' Tom added.

Janey threw him a weird look and folded her arms.

'Yeah, I had some key moments looking for you, you big nincompoop.'

'Hey, can I help that your directions are ambiguous?' Tom defended himself.

'I'll show you ambiguous,' she said and punched him playfully.

'You just enjoy hitting me, don't you? I wonder how Daria survived all these years.'

_There he goes again, bringing it back to Daria_, Trent thought amused.

'I can punch a mean fist myself, you know,' Daria quipped.

'You? I'll believe that when I see it,' he replied. But Daria just looked down, a bit embarrassed by his reply.

This scene seemed to clash in his mind terribly. He had a feeling for these things.

'So, uh, Tom did you have fun with Daria yesterday?'

He had no idea where that had come from, but it did get out. It came out as one of those imminent sentences given to criminals. And Janey, Tom and Daria stared at him confused.

Why had he said it? He had to get out of there.

'Yeah, I'd better go now. Band practice, you know. I'm probably late,' he said excusing himself and putting a five dollar bill on the table, though he hadn't taken a single bite.

As he walked away from the pizza place he wondered what was going through Daria's mind right now.


	2. Chapter 2

2: _It's not just brown_

The walk home made him feel nauseous, like he couldn't stand on his feet. He had drunk too much beer and eaten next to nothing. When he got home, he threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes. He pulled something to his chest. It was his guitar.

'Oh, it's you,' he said flatly and pushed it away.

He sank his head under the pillow and stopped thinking. Soon he'd be in dream land and he'd forget everything about this unannounced interruption into his otherwise peaceful, eventless life.

He wasn't sure whether he had locked the front door, but he didn't care.

He was going to fall asleep.

But one eye remained open, one eye refused to close. He was staring at the darkness around him and he_ was_ thinking. Was it the music that was getting to him? Was it the gig? Was it the fact that he couldn't remember his mom's face? Was it the annoying mail box in front of their house? The name 'Mystic Spiral' made him depressed too, but it had never caused personality deviations before.

'I don't change personality.'

He didn't get involved either. That word had a narrow meaning to him. His real personality couldn't grasp something as ephemeral as involvement, could it? Involvement meant responsibility which to him was a tool used by others to make him unhappy. It was absurd and stupid to think you could have control over something, that's what he thought.

'You just have to let things flow,' is what he said all the time.

Why wasn't he doing that now? Things could flow serenely if he just let them flow. But through his stupid intervention in their lives he had tried getting some control. Seventh grade should have cured him of that.

What was the control about? Was it over Janey? No. And certainly not over Tom.

So it was over Daria. He must have cared about her. He did, didn't he? He saw her as that cool chick that he could turn to, that wise Yoda that always knew the answer. Sometimes, though, she was just the fragile little girl that ran to Jane's house to find comfort.

Only, she never found comfort in him. He wasn't reliable and he wasn't even there half the time. He just had other things to do, other places to be. But when he did meet her, he was always pleased to see her. He had never been of much help but he had tried to be a decent friend.

Did he feel guilty? Maybe a little.

He thought he had settled things with her after their failed school project some weeks ago. Daria had told him, indirectly, that he had disappointed her and Janey, that he wasn't someone to depend on. He had agreed. It had felt the right thing to do back then. Simply agree. Because everything was true.

So if everything was so neatly wrapped and packed why was he bothering to open it and make a big mess out of it?

He always professed to know how males thought. And he could lucidly analyze his behaviour, before falling into deep sleep.

He had felt annoyance, in some silly, immature way, when he saw a cool person like Daria, hanging around with a guy who had another girlfriend. Even if he had treated her so nice, in the back of his mind, Tom was someone else's boyfriend so making Daria feel special was like trying to inflate a balloon without using air.

Was there a possibility that Tom could corrupt Daria?

'No way…' he muttered, stretching his legs and arms. No one could ever corrupt Daria.

But it was risky because Daria could, in actuality, get dragged into this guy's melodrama.

Okay, maybe he wasn't seeing things clear after too many beers, but the way he _did _see it, Daria was in danger of being hurt, if only a little. And she would get hurt hanging out with someone who was committed. And her friendship with Jane would suffer…

Suddenly his mind felt very heavy…

Janey would suffer too.

No, he was thinking too far. He was thinking too much.

It was a guy thing, it was just what his instinct told him. He had seen Tom talk to Daria and in those brief moments he had seen a couple from an old movie. It had been a very awkward sight and he knew that somehow, that dork had some interest for her. And he was a rich kid so he usually had whatever he wanted and what if he decided he wanted Daria too? Maybe guys weren't lining out to take Daria out, but this particular guy seemed to be into her. And would he let Jane stand in his way? Who knew? He didn't know him that well. Actually at all. Because he seemed like the good guy that takes the girl home after the party and the kind of person that doesn't like getting drunk just for fun and Janey looks happy with him so he must be doing something good. Plus, he had no reason to doubt him. He hadn't given him any reasons. He always had that air of safety. You could feel his confidence. You could never think he would do something stupid.

Until today. And the day before.

Now Trent suspected something bad for both Daria and Jane.

It was all very muddled.

In the end, it boiled down to Daria's attitude. She could reject Tom's overly friendly gestures and she could choose to distance herself. But what if she didn't?

That was the real problem.

In that case, his own sister wouldn't help her. Jane would feel hurt herself and she'd lash out at Daria. And it would be Tom's fault because he'd be playing with both of them.

He'd be the jerk.

She'd be the lonely victim.

And he'd be…

He didn't know where he stood in all this.

But he didn't have much time to analyze it. He fell asleep.

* * *

Jesse patted him on the shoulder slowly as he sat, slouched, on a beer case in the basement.

'Don't worry man, It's okay. Everyone forgets the lyrics they invented last night. You'll remember them.'

'But I was humming them this morning, I was sure I had a new song,' Trent said bitterly.

'It started out like nothing else.'

'Well, I guess we'll play the old ones tonight.'

'Nah, how about we cancel?'

'Um, that could work. But those other guys will be mad,' Jesse said, shrugging his shoulders.

'Yeah…they need their cash. Sometimes I hate money,' Trent said sighing.

'Who doesn't? Do you wanna go out for some beer later?'

'No, I think I'm going to sit in my room for a while. I'll try to remember that song.'

They spent an hour talking in the basement and at the end of it, Trent felt worse or better, he didn't really know.

He had to remember those lyrics. They had popped into his mind at six o'clock, not a very earthly time for him.

As he walked around the house, he noticed there was an eerie silence. The running shoes were missing from their spot on the kitchen table, so Janey was out on a jog.

He took out a box of milk and started drinking it as he leant against the fridge.

The doorbell rang.

At first he decided he should just stay put. But the ring was insistent.

He dragged himself to the door and opened it.

'Daria,' he said hoarsely.

The tiny girl was standing in front of him, a very insecure expression on her face. Her backpack looked heavier than her.

'Hi, Trent,' she said awkwardly.

Why was she feeling embarrassed? Trent wondered.

Only afterwards did he remember what he had said the other day.

'How are you doing? Everything okay?' he asked, looking at the nice cement.

'Well, not so much. Is Jane home?'

'Um, no, she went out for a run. Is there something wrong?'

He hadn't meant his voice to sound very concerned.

'Well, she's been a bit odd since yesterday and I've been trying to talk to her.'

Trent scratched his neck and looked in her eyes for the first time.

'Daria…I…I hope it wasn't cuz of what I said…'

'Oh, er, I don't know Trent. I don't have an answer for that, surprisingly. I think it's my fault too though.'

'Your fault? How does that work?'

'Well, I knew that parade was no good. I could've just left dad stranded, I mean it happened before. I even have pictures. But no, this time I had to act like a good kid that wants 20 bucks. See, karma punished me for trying to rip off my dad.'

Trent smiled, sleepily.

'You know, Daria, you're funny. But you can't help what happens to you. Unpredictable, you know? Life's that way. So you went to the parade. Big deal. It's Tom that actually complicated things, isn't it?'

Daria looked up surprised.

'He…didn't really do anything. He was looking for Jane and we ran into each other…'

'Look, all I'm saying is that you two are being weird cuz of that guy, so…' Trent said, trying really hard to avoid her eyes. He wanted to stop himself, but he just couldn't.

'So you'd better straighten it out,' he finished.

He finally started breathing.

'We're not being weird, I mean that's not a term I would use…'

Just then, Trent saw Janey from afar, running towards them.

She came to a halt when she saw Daria standing in front of her house. Holding the mail box to steady her breath, she wiped the sweat on her forehead and straightened her back.

'Hey, Daria. Trent. Nice seeing you two talk on the front porch. Forgot your manners, Trent?'

'Oh, um, yeah, Daria come in,' Trent said, bursting into a small fit of cough. He sometimes did that when he felt nervous or embarrassed. Or whenever he laughed. It was pathological, he decided.

Daria walked in after Trent and Jane followed, taking out her running shoes.

'Now tell me you came here just to smell this odor,' Jane said, holding up one shoe.

'Actually,' Daria started, 'ss enticing as that sounds, I came to talk. You know, like we usually do.'

'Well, Dorothy Parker, I'm all up for it. But first I have to take a shower. Trent, keep the young lady company, would you?'

He really just wanted to go to his room and wallow in self-pity over some words, but karma, like Daria had explained, was punishing him for opening his mouth.

They both sat in the kitchen, drinking some soda.

'Want some frozen pizza?' he asked, in a moment of inspiration.

'Um, okay, if it's still in one piece.'

Trent opened the fridge and took out a very tattered looking box. It was slightly bent, because of the cold.

'Yep, pretty cold…'

'Maybe too cold, Trent.'

'I have to heat it, I guess…' he said, running a hand through his hair.

'You could just use the microwave, you know,' Daria said, looking at him half-amused.

They had a microwave? Trent didn't know that. Mainly because he never used it.

Now, upon discovering the odd machinery, he kept staring at it like it was some sort of relic.

'How do you work this fishy object?'

'I wouldn't call it fishy, I'd call it toxic and immoral, but it's pretty simple,' Daria said getting up. She came towards him and took the pizza from his hands, then she turned to the microwave.

Now that she was closer, Trent noticed that Daria's hair wasn't just brown. It was auburn, which meant he could see a couple of strands of red, light brown, or dark brown.

Monique would have wanted those headlights, he thought.

'Trent, what's with the staring at my hair?' Daria asked, raising a brow.

'Have you noticed it's not just brown?' he suddenly said, feeling a bit dazed.

Daria opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it.

'I think I have. I am its possessor, after all.'

'It's got some nice shades,' he continued, absent-mindedly.

'Hmmm, "it's not just brown"…sounds like a good beginning for a song, right?' he asked hopefully.

'You want my honest opinion or my friendly opinion?'

'So, that's a no?'

'Well, let's just say your audience is not the classiest in town and when they hear the words _it's not just brown_, they will not think of hair.'

'Hmm, you're kind of right. But what if I said, it's not just brown hair…'

'Trent, stop tormenting her with your song ideas.'

They both turned around.

Jane was in her pajama, a towel covering her hair.

'I was just talking about her hair,' Trent said looking at Daria.

Jane gave a questioning look to Daria but her friend just shrugged her shoulders.

'Well. I think I'll let you two talk then…I'll be in my room, if you need me.' He had said this still looking at Daria so both she and Jane were confused about what the last part was supposed to mean.

'What about the pizza?' Daria asked, taking out the now heated slices.

'Leave a bit for me too,' he said shutting the door behind him.

'And suddenly it all makes sense,' Jane said. 'He's turned into a zombie. First the Pizza Place, now here…either he has a debilitating fear of pizzas or something is going on with him,' Jane said.

'I bet it's the songs or the gigs. He was so desperate he wanted to make a song about my hair,' Daria said.

'What? He's finally going to declare his undying love for you in a song? Thought he'd never get the balls for that.'

'Shut up _Lane_, or I will sew your lips together,' Daria said annoyed. 'Now can we have a normal conversation in this house?'

The two girls walked up to Janey's room.

Trent was lying on the bed, holding his guitar. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping.


	3. Chapter 3

_ 3: Adventure (or Take you Somewhere) _

He felt a soft breeze touching his shoulder. Then he tasted salt. It was unpolluted, ubiquitous sweat. He turned around and saw white lights that diverged into green and red ones. The bar was full.

He opened his eyes. He was holding his guitar and it was his turn to sing and he opened his mouth and a voice came out, like a machine. It was his cue.

But if he just dropped down his guitar and walked off the stage would someone say something? Would Jesse run after him? And if he did run, would he be able to stop him?

Where would he go anyway? The stage was the only place that made him do anything.

He had no interest in living sometimes. Except when he was singing. But he couldn't sing forever. He had to do something in between. Maybe go on a journey.

Only his maps were torn and stained. Penny had shown him his village once. It had looked good from the map, but in reality maybe it was a sad, glorious dump.

Maybe he needed to go help some people. He couldn't help himself.

Tonight was covers night. They were covering The Doors and a bit of Sparks. The latter was proving difficult to handle, since he just couldn't have fun with the music, or make jokes with his rhymes. He couldn't even not take it seriously.

But after a while, it all fell into place, like a radio was playing in the back and they were just some puppets and it felt like it was just another sleep in his room.

He scratched his head and looked around. The crowd was small and dwindling. It was getting late. But some girls were glued to the scene. One of them looked prettier than the others. She had long slender legs and a black skirt. She was wearing glasses too.

After the gig he thought he might talk to her.

But surprisingly, she walked on stage and started singing with him. Apparently it was a very popular song. He couldn't exactly hear it.

But Jesse and the other guys looked thrilled. And they were giving their best.

At the end he walked out with her and they got in his car.

They started making out, without much enthusiasm, albeit.

He had one hand in her long, ashen hair and another on her collarbone. They stopped for a moment and she took off her glasses. He frowned and blinked at her.

'Why'd you do that?'

'Do what?'

'You took your glasses off. What for?'

'Couldn't get to kiss you silly, they were bothering me,' she explained.

'Huh,' he said and kissed her again.

'But you know, I don't mind. Put them back on,' he said after a while.

'Why?' she asked raising a brow. 'Do you like them or something?'

'Yeah, sure.'

'You have a thing for them?'

'Not necessarily. But there's no need to take them off. I mean, you look cute with them on.'

'Really? I turn you on or something?'

'Did I say that? Maybe you do, I can't always tell. But I like them.'

'Huh, never met a glasses-guy.'

'Glasses-guy? What does that mean?'

'A guy turned on by glasses,' she explained like it was obvious.

'There is like a category for that…?'

'There's a category for everything,' she explained. 'See, I'm into bum rockers. So we fit.'

'Yeah…' he muttered as he kissed her back.

He liked the feel of his nose on the rims of her glasses. And that was sort of what he called romance.

After an hour or two…

'Can I come back to your place? Your car is nice and all that but I'm afraid we're gonna be stuck here all night.'

'Uh…my place? It's…you wouldn't like it.'

'What? Full of booze and vomit?'

'No, I have a little sister.'

'How young are we talking here?' she asked, curious.

Okay, he usually told the ladies Janey was seven. They'd throw a shocked face and he'd say he was raising her alone, they would admire him for it, ask for his number but he would go home alone. This time however, he wanted to try something crazier, maybe shake his night a bit. He'd raise the bar a bit.

'She's about seventeen,' he said.

'Oh, she's already in her teens. Well, it would be nice to meet her.'

'Yeah, it would…but you see, she gets kind of jealous. Like really jealous. Almost…crazy jealous.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Well, I don't bring girls home cuz she gets mental. She can't stand that crap. She'd just want me for herself.'

'For herself? Come on, your sister's in love with you or something?' she asked, laughing.

'No, it's pretty much just undiluted sex. Mostly… and she'd freak out you know, if you were there.'

It didn't take long before she jumped out of his car and was gone.

He smiled to himself and decided to drive home without rushing. Wait, he never really rushed.

He liked to stop the car sometimes, midway. He would park it somewhere on the double line, in the middle of the street and watch out for any movement. If anything moved, he would start the engine. But somehow it took good minutes for a sound to disturb him.

The windows he passed were usually dark, so sometimes, if the lighting in the street was good, he could see a shadow. He once saw a couple doing some gym exercises. They seemed old.

In this eerie place, he felt like a fragment of his mind was being turned into blank matter and he could fill it up with new things, new things he had never tried, a new life he dreamt of.

He got home at about half past three. He knocked on Janey's room but received no answer. Probably sleeping, he thought.

He opened the door slightly. The bed was empty.

So was the entire house, he checked.

He found a note on Janey's easel. It said 'Hey, I'm at Tom's. Don't wait up. Chinese on the kitchen table.'

He went downstairs and sat at the table, head in his hands. Should he be worried?

He wasn't used to this. Nights spent alone with Janey were fine. Nights spent alone without Janey meant madness or something very close to it.

He wanted to call Tom's house, but didn't have the number, or the address.

He walked around the room for a while. Now he wished Janey had one of those crappy cell phones.

He walked out of the house, looking out in the horizon, hoping to see her running figure.

He could have shot a gun in the air, no one would've woken up.

He decided to go to Daria. Something led him there, not his legs, but something did.

He wanted to go see her. It would appease his worries.

But when he found himself in front of her door he realized he couldn't knock. Her parents would flip.

He tried to remember Daria's room. He had lived in this house for about a week, hadn't he? He should figure it out.

After some painful thinking, he found her window.

And he picked up a couple of stones and started hitting the pane.

After some minutes, the window opened.

He saw her ivory skin shine under the brown locks. She seemed blind without her glasses. 'Trent?' she whispered.

He liked the way she looked at the window there, in the middle of the night.

'Trent, what're you doing here?' she asked, in a muffled tone.

'Um, hey, Daria…I can't find Janey. She er…she said she'd be at Tom's, but it's, it's pretty late,' he mumbled.

'At Tom's?' she asked sleepily and looked at the clock. 'Yeah, it's really late. Um why don't you drive there Trent? It's not far.'

'That's just it, I don't know the address.'

'Well…I don't know the name exactly, but I can tell you how to get there. I'll write it down for you,' she said walking back in her room.

Trent waited for a couple of seconds. The window seemed empty without her figure there, he thought.

When she appeared again, she was wearing her glasses.

'Um, here, I'll drop it, catch it.'

Trent looked over the hastily scribbled directions. He couldn't understand anything. He had drunk a bit, but that had nothing to do with it. He was terrible at directions. He had no idea what to make of them. He couldn't follow those signs.

'Um…Daria?'

'Yeah?'

'I really can't understand anything.'

She sighed. 'Trent, I tried to outline it as simple as possible.'

Trent frowned, a feeling of annoyance rising in him.

'Hey, you don't need to dumb it up for me. I'm just…terrible at directions, that's all.'

'And what do you expect me to do?'

'Could you come with me?' he asked hopefully.

'Um…yeah, I'm not so sure about that, Trent. It's almost morning. My parents _will _notice.'

'But aren't you worried about Janey? I just can't rest without her there.'

'I do Trent…' she sighed again. 'Fine, I'll come. But we'd better be fast. And you'll deal with everything. You'll talk to Tom and Jane, I'm just there as guidance, okay?'

'Fine, I can do that,' he said half-smiling.

'Um, do you want me to catch you or something?' he asked drowsily.

'Say what now?'

'When you jump out the window?'

She slapped her head. 'Trent, I'm going out the back door. But thanks for the offer.'


	4. Chapter 4

_4: Ulysses_

Trent would have wanted to comment how her parents are strangely unperceptive. I mean you'd have to be damn good sleepers not to hear Daria scramble out of the house in her ubiquitous heavy boots and not very graceful walk. But he decided he liked that about Daria's parents and that it was to his benefit, after all.

Not even when he started his engine which usually caused a big ruckus, was there any movement from the house. Daria got into the car without so much as a look back.

Guess she had been wrong about them. They hadn't even stirred.

'Okay, let's make this fast and easy,' she whispered, throwing her backpack in the backseat.

Trent chuckled and coughed. 'Nice choice of words, Daria.'

'Yeah, it's after two a.m. after all. I can only talk in punch lines,' she said sleepily.

Trent didn't know if he should consider this a joke or not. Normally he would and he'd smile about it and call Daria funny, but now he noticed she really looked tired and worn-out. His smile sobered. He looked blankly ahead.

'You okay, though? You look kinda...exhausted.'

He had a hard time pronouncing that long word. He hadn't used it in such a long time.

Daria looked at him slightly surprised.

'Me? I'm as fresh as a daisy,' she said in a dead-pan voice.

'School working you too much?' he continued, ignoring her comment.

'Trent, it's Lawndale,' she said rolling her eyes.

He nodded, his hand playing with the buttons of the radio stations. He was only met with static.

'Then it must not be school related,' he said.

'How perceptive of you,' she joked.

Trent felt this was more than a jab. Her sarcasm, though pleasant and entertaining, could be slightly acerbic, sometimes. But Daria didn't care whether he noticed things or not, did she? She wasn't bothered by his nonchalance, was she?

'So, what's making you feel down?' he drawled.

'Oh, a chockfull of things. Like my computer. The guy's not letting me write. And my toaster. She's not letting me eat. Or the...'

'So...Janey wouldn't be on that list, right?' he asked tentatively.

'Jane?' Daria echoed surprised. 'Why would she be?'

'Uh, cuz she's your best friend,' he reasoned, rubbing his back awkwardly.

'So?'

She wasn't making it any easier for him.

'You guys seem stressed. Like something's up.'

She remained silent. He bit his tongue, peeling off some skin. The cracked lips bled into his mouth. He was thirsty.

'Can you hand me a red tape from the glove compartment?' he asked, trying to get back to a neutral ground.

She opened it and shuffled through the junk in it, trying to find the tape he was asking for.

'Wow, there's a newspaper here from 1989. Did you know that?'

Trent smiled and extended his hand towards the glove compartment. He was going to look for it himself but since he was staring at the road ahead he couldn't prevent his hand from accidentally brushing against her knee. And of course she was wearing that damn skirt.

There was no way he could now continue looking for his tape. There was no way he was looking her in the eye. It was just too embarrassing.

He pulled his hand away and glued it to the steering wheel. Yes, he usually drove with one hand but right now he wanted to see that hand in front of him, where it couldn't cause any more trouble.

What if Daria now thought that his intention had been to feel her up?

He shook his head annoyed. No, no, she wouldn't think that. She wouldn't think he was a pervert.

She knew he respected boundaries. She knew he was not like that all.

'Uh, Trent? Do you know where you're going?'

Damn. He'd just realized. He was driving like an idiot around town. He remembered what he was supposed to do.

The night around him had grown darker and the suburbs had acquired a red shade of dawn.

'Right. Janey. We have to get to Tom's. Er, lead the way, Daria.'

'I never get tired of that sentence,' she said half-smirking. 'Okay, take a left here.'

Trent felt a bit more relaxed. She didn't seem to have noticed the hand incident. She was quite unfazed actually. He thanked his stars.

'Still need that tape?' she suddenly asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

He winced and shook his head. He should have known he couldn't just get away with that.

* * *

The lights were off.

There was definitely no sign of anyone being awake.

The house looked unoccupied.

This got him even more concerned. If it looked so quiet it was because they were sleeping.

Maybe together.

Maybe more than sleeping.

Maybe Tom and Janey were in the middle of it right now. Just as he was parking in front of his huge tall mansion. Just now.

On second thoughts, why wouldn't Janey want to sleep here?

It beat the old house by a milestone.

Someone was touching his little sister. It sounded worse than it was, but it felt real. All of Janey's previous boyfriends had only got to second base, at the most.

Tom was changing the game.

'Trent? What are you doing?' Daria asked, her eyes filled with something akin to curiosity...or concern?

He was stuck. He felt stuck. He couldn't get out of the car. He didn't want to care. It was better not to care. He had done that before and he had been happy.

Only he had been miserable. He loved Jane. He loved her. But he tried not to. He tried not to get involved. Becayse when he did, he lost it. When he made a step forwards, he was pushed two steps back and it didn't make any sense to keep trying when everything was against him.

He had no energy for this. He wanted to accept this. Janey was a big girl. She'd be safe. He trusted her.

He should just relax. He should have never gone out that night. He should have stayed in bed.

He regretted driving here and bothering Daria.

He felt bad for not having a cell phone to call Jane and tell her he was okay with whatever she wanted to do.

'Trent! Wake up before I slap you with this 1989 newspaper,' Daria said crisply.

'I'm awake,' he said quietly, rubbing his forehead. 'I'm just...ah, I'm a bit down myself.'

He got out of the car and walked up to the front door, Daria tagging right behind him.

He knocked at first.

Then he waited for a full-minute before he rang the doorbell. There was no answer.

He waited two minutes, then he rang again. Complete silence.

Daria sighed and walked back to the car, leaning against it.

'It's a big house,' she said lamely. 'I bet they hear it half an hour later.'

But Trent was feeling rather anxious. He beat his fist lightly on the door. His heart was racing for some reason.

And he realized that it wasn't because he thought Janey was here with Tom.

It was because she might not be. She might be somewhere else. Somewhere he didn't know.

'We should find a payphone. I'll call Tom's house,' she offered calmly.

His head snapped a little. That _was_ an idea.

'I think I saw one further up the road. It's a short walk,' she said.

'I'll come with you.'

It was a cold night, despite what the weather forecast had predicted. He swore he saw some frozen ditches by the road.

Tom's house was on the other side of town, in a residential neighbourhood that looked cut out of a car commercial. But it was a tasteful commercial. The houses tracing the main road were not white-picket-fenced, they were solid red-bricked, white-washed, coloured-skewed, trashy-looking interiors, semi-transparent curtains, no-great-big chandeliers.

From what he could tell. His mind was thinking in composed words.

The walk proved to be longer than imagined. He could hear her buckles swishing in the dead air.

He could also hear her trembling. Well, not literally, but her body was making that furled noise that meant she was cold.

Damn, he didn't even have a jacket with him. Just his t-shirt and an over-shirt that barely kept him warm.

He had woken her at an ungodly hour just to have her suffer through cold.

The night sky looked like the cement. The road seemed endless.

Daria suddenly tripped over a large stone and fell to her knees on the ground. He quickly crouched down to her.

'Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?'

'I'm okay,' she said, standing on all four. 'But that stone won't be.'

He smiled. 'Let me see the knees.'

'No, really, I'm fine...'

'That was a pretty bad fall. You might've got the skin bruised.'

He offered his hand. She stared at it for a second, before taking it. He lifted her up and half-dragged her to the kerb. They sat down.

It was dark and he couldn't see very well so he didn't think it was a big deal to check her knees.

He was touching them again, but this time voluntarily. It didn't feel as awkward.

They were a bit red and sore and the skin was slightly peeled-off, but nothing big.

He took out a piece of cloth from his pocket and placed it on her knee to stop the droplets of blood.

'Thanks,' she said softly, staring at his hand placed tightly over her knee.

'This should stop the bleeding,' he said pensively.

He felt the blood pulsating under her skin.

'I'll wait up here. You can go ahead and find that payphone,' she suggested.

No way. Are you mental, Daria?

'Nah, I'm not leaving you here,' he said instead.

'It's a safe neighbourhood. And it's that time of the night when even the rapists are asleep,' she joked.

Trent winced and looked away.

'I didn't mean...that,' she said after half a second.

'It's fine. I'll just sit here with you and wait,' Trent offered. He finally pulled away his hand from her knee.

As they sat there, they didn't notice that someone had turned on the lights in the house behind them.

Maybe because the light was soft and imperceptible, but they didn't even turn.

Only when they heard a voice coming from afar did they make an effort to look.

A middle-aged man with a bald head was walking towards them from the house, holding a flashlight.

'Can I help you youngsters? You've been sitting there for a while.'

Trent got up and stood in front of Daria.

'My friend and I were searching for a payphone actually. We need to make a phone call. She tripped and got hurt,' he explained languidly.

He felt irritated. He shouldn't have to explain. The kerb was free for everyone.

'Oh, were you trying to call your parents?' he asked concerned.

'Actually,' Daria intervened, 'we were trying to call the Sloanes. His sister is there, but no one is answering the door.'

'Oh, the Sloanes! Very good people, yes we know them well! We had them over for dinner. Well, you can come in and call them if you'd like,' he offered, smiling kindly.

Trent didn't like his smile at all. Daria looked reluctant too, but she nodded her head. So they followed the man inside his large house.

It was very warm and cosy inside. The two lit lights in the hallway gave the adjoining rooms a hollow feel. As if there should be something more than emptiness.

The man told them to make themselves comfortable in the lounge. He would bring them some water and the phone.

'Oh and maybe some clean bandages for you, Miss...?'

'Daria. I would be very grateful, thank you,' she said meekly.

They both sat on the green ottoman in the heavily decorated salon. Trent was holding his forehead in his hands.

'Trent, remind me again how I ended up here. One minute I was sleeping in my comfy bed and the next I'm in a strange man's house, with my knees torn.'

Despite the outcome of the evening, Trent felt like laughing.

Yes, things were looking rough, but on the bright side...

'You gotta admit, it's kind of funny,' he said hoarsely.

'I don't see the humour,' she said, but she smiled despite herself.

A grandfather clock in a corner showed it was almost four in the morning.

The man came back with the phone and a stack of clean bandages, but upon inspecting her knee he said:

'I think you should use the bathroom and clean up the spot a bit.'

Daria looked down and felt embarrassed. One or two drops of blood had fallen on the carpet.

She mumbled an apology. The man smiled and waved his hand. 'I'm a dentist. I see that all the time.'

Somehow this didn't make Trent feel any better.

'I'll go with her to help her,' he said quickly, not wishing to leave her alone and not wanting to stay there with the man either.

'Up the stairs, third room to the right,' he instructed them. 'And please be quiet, my wife is sleeping.'

They couldn't be quieter even if they tried. They were as quiet as mice. Daria particularly. Trent felt so out of place he didn't question her.

They bumped into each other on the corridor because it was quite dark. He steadied her from behind.

She shrugged it off.

They both entered the bathroom. It was painted in bright green and yellow. It hurt their eyes after all that dark.

Trent sat on the edge of the tub and looked out the window.

Daria opened a cupboard and took out some alcohol. She took some tissues and applied it to her knees. She sat on the toilet seat.

Trent watched her in fascination. He was mesmerised by her slow and precise movements. He tried to remember the last time he was this focused on one thing only.

'Do you think we'll find Janey?' Trent asked.

'I'm pretty sure she's safe and we're being silly,' Daria replied, but her voice wavered. She wasn't so sure.

'Do you think she's at Tom's?'

'Maybe. But I think they might be asleep. Like really asleep. And the Lanes are deep sleepers, as you can surely attest. I think she may have corrupted Tom.'

'I hope so. I mean I hope she's safe,' he said, feeling his arms go weak. He hadn't slept himself for quite some time.

She sighed and took off her glasses. She set them on a small table by the door.

She proceeded to rub her eyes slowly.

Trent thought she looked odd without glasses. As if a part of her was missing completely. At the same time, her small brown eyes looked larger now and more watery.

Maybe it was the fact that they were cooped up in a strange bathroom and Daria looked as tired as he did, but he decided to tell her something.

'I know you had a crush on me.'

The words just flew out of his mouth without him even making an effort to stop himself.

Daria froze on the spot with the tissue on her knee and one hand over her eyes.

She tried to articulate a sentence, but every time she tried, she failed and had to begin again.

She was like a deer caught in the headlights.

At least, that's what Trent saw when he looked into her frightened eyes. Someone truly fragile.

After a minute or so, she stopped pressing the tissues on her knee and applied the bandages instead. She threw the tissues the garbage bin and got up.

She washed her hands and looked in the mirror with a sour expression.

She avoided his eyes. He stared intently at her back.

'We should go,' she said at length. Her voice was so small, he thought it sounded more like a request.

When they came back down, Daria took the phone and dialled Tom's house.

Trent was standing close to her, so he could hear who it was. He had to bend slightly to get close to the receiver. His breath fell down on her long hair like a whisper.

After the eleventh ring, a rough, drowsy foreign voice answered.

It wasn't Tom's. It wasn't Jane's.

'Slo-Sloane residence...How can I...Who is calling?' the voice asked. The accent was Southern.

Trent saw panic spreading over Daria's face.

'I am sorry to call at such a late hour but I was wondering if I could talk to Tom Sloane or Jane Lane. It's kind of serious,' she said.

'Ooh...I'm sorry, but young Mr. Sloane and Miss Lane left the house earlier this e-evening. Mr. Sloane said they were leaving for the Cove. He wanted to show the Miss the place.'

'Oh...right, thanks then. I'm sorry for the bother,' Daria said quickly and shut the phone.

Trent could have mentally kicked himself. He hadn't expected this.

'The Cove? They left for the Cove?' he asked confused.

'I underestimated those two apparently. They're not boring at all,' Daria drawled upset.

'But Janey wrote saying she'd stay over at his place. She didn't mention any Cove...'

'Yeah, trust Jane to do exactly as she says... Damn it. We drove all the way here for nothing. And tomorrow I have school and I'm going to fall asleep on my desk again. Then again, that's no different from what I usually do,' Daria said more to herself.

'I'm really sorry, Daria... I don't suppose you know where this Cove is, do you?'

'Nice try, Trent, but I want to go home now. No more adventures for me tonight,' she replied, looking away. After their little conversation in the bathroom he could see how awkward she felt.

'That's fair, I guess. We should head home. There's not much we can do tonight,' he admitted, shaking his head.

'So, any good news?' the dentist asked as he entered the room carrying two glasses of water.

'Our friends are out apparently,' Daria said sourly. 'We're sorry for the inconvenience. We'll be leaving now. My friend will drive me home.'

'Oh, you've got a car son?' he asked, smiling.

'Just down the road,' Trent explained. 'No one steals it for some reason, so I just leave it where I can.'

The dentist chuckled. 'There aren't any thefts here anyway. Here, have some water.'

'I'm sorry, Sir, but we don't know your name...' Daria said.

'Oh, it's Mr. Williams. I work at Sunny Smiles, if any of you have any dental problems,' he said smiling awkwardly.

'Um, thanks, Mr. Williams. I'll keep that in mind,' Daria replied politely.

'Yeah, thanks for all the help,' Trent added.

* * *

They were walking towards Trent's car now, considerably warmer and cleaner thanks to the surprisingly kind neighbour. Trent hadn't expected such a gesture from the upper-crust. He always used to mock them and look down on them for not having the same beliefs and not sharing the same life style as he did, but now he was beginning to doubt his animosity.

Some people out here were decent.

Only when they had arrived back at his car and had got in, did the memory of their exchange in the bathroom resurface with painful alacrity.

The silence that had been natural before, now felt worse than ever, as if a hammer had stopped in mid-air but was going to fall on the head of a nail any moment now.

The air between them was constricted. He felt suffocated. He suspected she felt the same.

Why had he said that? Why? He could have easily shut up.

Why was he torturing both of them?

He turned on the radiator in his car. It got warm quickly. Too warm in fact, since the radiator was broken as was everything, really.

The warmth spread into his toes and filled him with such a good feeling he almost forgot himself.

He tried the engine listlessly. As usual, it was stuck. It needed a bit of encouragement. He tried again, then again.

He figured he needed to get out of the car and give it a bump.

But it was so warm here inside. He was going to ask Daria.

But when he turned his head to look at her he noticed she had fallen asleep in her seat.

Her breaths were shallow and soft. Her face was completely blank.

Her glasses were falling off her nose. He gently took them off and placed them in the pocket of her green jacket, careful not to touch her too much.

He smiled to himself.

She wasn't used to these hours.

Neither was he.

It came as no surprise then that his body stretched out almost imperceptibly and his eyelids fluttered most luridly.

His head fell against the edge of his seat and he slowly but surely fell asleep.

But before they were completely out, his head glided involuntarily towards her shoulder, where it remained stuck between her collarbone and her cheek.

It was almost morning

* * *

**So, that's a wrap on an extremely long Daria chapter. I hope you liked it. Now would be a good time to hit that button below...hint, hint :D **


	5. Chapter 5

_5: Girls like Escape__  
_

Trent was the one who woke up first. Which was an inexplicable thing, since he almost always slept until late in the afternoon.

He supposed it was the stress that was keeping him awake like that.

But what was he stressed about?

He tried to remember what was bugging him as his eyes flinched open. He needed to drink some water right now. His throat was so dry it was hurting him.

He felt sweaty and dirty and very warm.

And it smelt good around him. His nose was touching something soft and salty. Yes, he couldn't taste with his nose, but he just knew it would taste salty.

He buried his nose deeper into those soft folds. The texture, it was similar to...skin?

What the hell?

His head snapped up. Daria's tiny form was sleeping softly next to his.

He winced as he noticed the state of her jacket.

He'd been sleeping against it.

An urge to get out of the car and run for it took over him. He wanted to get cleaned up. He wanted to sink his head in a bucket of cold water.

But at the same time he wanted to find a pillow. Well, he would have liked to find one. So he could put it under her head, because she didn't look comfortable.

But without her glasses and with her hair indescribably frizzy and curly from her wet forehead she looked sort of fluffy.

But fluffy was just not a right word, he thought.

Why was her forehead so wet?

He then realized it was soaking hot in the car. He quickly turned off the radiator.

The T-shirt was stuck to his skin. So were his jeans. Now he realized why he felt so dirty.

He didn't want to wake her now, because it would be too messy for the both of them, but he would have wanted to crack open a window. Just for the sake of fresh air.

The sun was shining brightly in the middle of the sky. If he had to make an estimate, he'd say it was close to noon. Maybe eleven or twelve? He'd become an expert at telling noon time.

God, he craved for a cigarette. Which usually did not happen. In fact, he'd stopped two months ago.

But now it was coming back with a vengeance. Probably because he was hungry.

He noticed her backpack in the back seat. His hand fished for it and he pulled it in his lap quietly.

Normally he wouldn't do this, but he was curious what she could have possibly brought with her.

He found a bag of chips and a bottle of water.

Huh. Daria had brought food and water. But why? Was it what she usually did when she snuck out of her house at two in the morning?

Was she addicted to chips?

Well, he wouldn't eat them. He'd feel bad about it. But he took a gulp of water.

It was too bad he was drinking, cuz he almost spat it all over himself when Daria moved in her sleep.

She didn't wake up, but she started moving her hands.

Her eyes still shut, she unzipped her jacket and pulled it off. Then she turned around and settled in a better sleeping position.

The jacket landed on his knees.

He wished he had a camera right now.

Daria was just as soaked as he was. Particularly her orange T-shirt. He made it his sacred duty not to look her way at all.

He took her jacket and threw it in the backseat.

Would there be any more surprises?

Yes. There would be.

'Trent?' a male voice asked surprised.

He felt his insides break. Tom Sloane was standing in front of his car, his arms crossed over his chest.

He had two options; he could stay locked in and pretend that he couldn't see him or start the engine and speed past him.

Both options had a fatal problem. His car, which couldn't be locked and didn't start easily.

He let down his window.

'Hi...Tom,' he said wearily.

'Nice seeing you here, Trent. Care to explain what you're doing, though?' Tom asked, slightly amused. 'You look like you've slept in that car.'

'Um yeah...the radiator broke and...' Trent trailed off. 'I came to get Janey I guess...'

'Oh, that. Sorry about that, I didn't know Jane hadn't told you. She can be unpredictable like that. We went to the Cove, but I drove her back this morning so she's safe at home now,' he said.

'Oh, that's a relief,' Trent answered absent-mindedly. 'I was beginning to...get worried.'

'Wow, you drove all the way here, I'm impressed,' Tom said chuckling.

His smile died on his lips however, when he heard someone stirring in the car and his eyes finally noticed the girl sleeping next to Trent.

'Daria?' he asked in shock.

Daria's eyes flew open. She looked around mystified, blinking several times to adjust to the change of light. It was now well past noon.

She touched her wet t-shirt in confusion. She started fumbling for her glasses.

When her eyes met Trent's, she almost flinched. She couldn't see him clearly, but she could bet he had the same expression on his face.

'Daria? Is that you?' Tom asked again, in shock. Trent noticed the way he was trying to look away.

'You look like a mess. What the heck happened to you guys?' Tom started, his voice growing snappier. Trent noticed his nostrils had flared up and he was staring at him as if he was something close to a sex fiend.

'Did you two stay here all night?' Tom asked in disbelief.

Trent felt he should tell him to back off with all the questions, but he was on his property after all. He felt it wouldn't be a safe move. Plus, wasn't he crazy rich or something?

'Trent, let's go,' Daria suddenly mumbled in a panicked voice.

'What?' he asked, taken aback.

'Daria, please come inside the house, let me give you guys some water,' Tom suddenly said, noticing she looked frightened.

'No, thanks. Trent, we should go,' she repeated.

'Daria...' Trent began.

'Drive already,' she muttered annoyed.

'We can't just leave...'

'I said floor it!' she snapped as she grabbed the ignition key and turned it around.

Trent had no other option than to listen to her. Frankly, he was relieved. If she hadn't had the guts to do it, he would have never left like that. He was grateful to her.

For once, his rusty old car helped him out and after a couple of misguided turns he managed to get on the road and then it was full speed ahead. Well, as speedy as this car could get.

He heard Tom yell after them, but he blocked out the voice and stared straight ahead.

Daria was sitting with her legs crossed under her, looking back at Tom's house.

She sighed in relief.

'Thanks Trent. I needed to get out of there. Don't want to face Tom right now. I suppose you share my feelings,' she said, wiping some sweat from her forehead.

Trent nodded his head and smiled to himself.

She opened her window and let the cool breeze in.

The car hit a rock in the road and her glasses fell from the glove compartment.

Daria cursed under her breath and she lowered to grab them.

'God, Trent, I think there's a living thing under this seat,' she mumbled as she sank her hands underneath.

Trent was having a hard time focusing on the road when Daria was almost down on all four, hunting for the glasses. It was distracting and he feared she might get hurt.

'Find them yet?' he asked.

'No. But if they're broken, you're paying,' she told him curtly.

'Ah, you know I have no money,' he said.

'Not really my problem Lane,' she mumbled almost inaudibly. But he heard her. And he wondered if it was worth stealing money to get her new glasses.

He decided it was.

'Ok, don't move, they're under your legs,' she suddenly said.

Trent instantly tensed.

'I'll get them. Don't move. Just stay focused,' she told him.

He turned on the radio quickly. He needed to hear something else than her voice right now.

A brash, loud song erupted from an unknown station.

He felt more than saw Daria's tiny body collide with his legs as she fumbled for her glasses.

He prayed silently that she would find them really quick. But then he remembered his car was a piece of junk that carried even more junk in it.

She'd never find them at this rate.

He started slowing down as he peered down between his legs.

A loud, threatening honk snapped him up.

He suddenly saw a van coming from the opposite direction. He veered away quickly.

He heard the driver's loud expletives behind him as he looked in the mirror.

'Goddamn it!' he muttered annoyed.

'Sorry, almost got them,' Daria mumbled.

He sighed and hit the brakes hard and stopped the car in the middle of the road.

Unfortunately, this threw Daria against his thighs as she hit her head on the steering wheel.

Her hands had grabbed his knees for support.

'What the hell?' she asked annoyed.

'Sorry, I had to stop. You're never going to find them at this rate,' he mumbled quickly.

Daria squeezed her eyes shut as she touched her head in pain.

He grabbed her arms gently and pulled her up. She rolled over him and back into her seat, panting like crazy.

Her face was completely flushed. He could tell she was very, very embarrassed.

He got out of the car. He felt his legs sore from all the sitting down. He also felt like he'd hit an electric pulse somewhere in his brain.

But that's probably because a girl had been sitting between his legs which was bad enough – since most girls who found themselves in that position were there for a certain reason – but this was Daria of all people, who had no reason to be there.

He crouched down outside his car and started looking for her glasses.

This is how a police car found them.

'Young man, do you know you are blocking the road?' the cop asked him, getting out of his car.

Trent closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

'Crap,' Daria muttered.

* * *

When he finally managed to get her home, after a very interesting and counter-productive talk with a policeman (trying to explain he wasn't abducting minors and that they weren't under the influence or high on any illegal drugs, except maybe car radiator?), Daria looked ready to blow up.

He stopped the car in front of her house and exhaled silently.

Daria was zipping up her jacket. Then she did something that shocked him. She looked in the rear-view mirror, checking her appearance.

'What? I don't want my parents to have an extra reason to be pissed,' she explained as she tried fixing her hair.

'Um, want me to talk with them?'

'Nah, that would make it worse,' she confessed.

'Why?'

'You're really going to ask me that Trent? A cop just asked you if you had molested me in any way. I don't think you wanna go there,' she said.

Trent chuckled, despite the obviously inappropriate moment.

'That was just absurd,' he confessed.

'Which part?' she asked.

Trent opened his mouth and then closed it, trying to think which part had been the weirdest. He couldn't decide.

Then he noticed Daria was smiling ruefully.

He smiled back.

The sun was reflected in her hair.

'So, you're not...angry with me?' he asked hoarsely.

'I would be, but I can't get angry with you. You're too...calm. Yeah, calm. I'll go with calm so I don't accidentally say something stupid,' she said, rolling her eyes.

He smirked. 'Yeah, you'd probably say something true.'

Daria pulled some locks away from her face self-consciously.

'What do we do about Janey and Tom though?' he asked.

'Hey, they can't force us to talk,' she joked.

'And if it comes to that?'

'We deny any accusation.'

He chuckled and coughed shortly.

'Thanks for getting me out of there though,' she said looking out the window.

'No problem. I wanted to do the same.'

There was silence. Daria grabbed her backpack.

'Tonight was fun, Daria,' Trent finally said.

'...Yeah, it was,' Daria admitted and shook her head amused.

'Now I'm off to serve my death sentence,' she said in a deadpan voice, looking at her house.

Trent smiled and patted her shoulder. 'We'll meet in heaven.'

She hid a smile and got out of the car.

She waved goodbye and then she turned around and walked up to her front door. She stopped and waited two seconds. Then she went in.

Trent started his engine.

'Yeah, in heaven, or in hell,' he muttered to himself, smiling, as he drove away.

* * *

**So, do you agree with Trent? Was it any fun? :) Click on the review button and tell me:)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey there faithful readers, is this an update you see? Why, yes it is!**

**So, the reason this has been taking so long is that I was still not sure whether to make this chapter longer or shorter than usual. Yes, that's really silly I know. Well, there were other reasons too, involving college, but those fall under the category of 'boring'.**

**Thanks so so so much you guys for the lovely reviews! Thanks to _SSJ04 Mewtwo_ for the shipper adjective, I feel proud of being part of the Daria/Trent love:) Thanks also to _Conqueror Worm_ for going back and reading all the chapters (wow, perseverance!), to _TarainthePNW _(classic Trent indeed:) ), _Melyssa Mayhem, Sun-chan1, Dear Near Scary, Lady of the frozen black flame, Shiva the Sarcastic_ and just about everyone who's stopped by. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a bit more introspective but really cute in its own way (wishful thinking). Please let me know what you think :)

* * *

**

_6: Waste Land _

After successfully entering the house with as little noise as possible, Trent thought he might actually make it to his room without a nasty confrontation with a righteous sister.

He did make it to his room – but Janey was there.

She was sitting on his bed, her legs crossed, her arms folded, her expression sour and her indignant eyebrow, raised so high he couldn't even see it past her bangs. All these indicative signs suggested she was going to start an argument.

And he was not up for it. He was dead beat. He was sure that if he closed his eyes, he would fall asleep standing. He needed his usual twenty two hours of sleep, now more than ever.

'Okay, Humbert, you've got ten seconds to explain why you and Daria were standing outside of Tom's house.'

He was not going to sleep in the next five minutes. That was clear.

'Humbert? Like the perv from Lolita?' he asked listlessly, looking around his room for anything that might help him diffuse this upcoming fight.

Jane tapped her foot impatiently.

'There's another Humbert?' he asked confused.

'Four, three, two…'

'You lied to me,' Trent muttered, looking down. 'You told me you were spending the night with Tom, not that he was taking you to some fancy place outside of town.'

She made a surprised face.

'What?' Trent asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Okay, first off,' Jane said, holding out her hand defensively 'he didn't take me to a fancy place, it was just a holiday house his parents own on the coast, second, I didn't lie, I did spend the night with Tom, just not necessarily in the usual location. Third, you still haven't answered what you were doing with Daria there.'

'You could have still told me about it, you know, I _am_ older than you,' he countered.

'Hey, he sprung it up on me from out of nowhere, I wasn't going to call you and tell you there was a change of plans, since it would mean nothing to you. I'd still be at Tom's, wouldn't I? What is up with you anyway? You don't usually worry so much about me.'

'Yeah, well sometimes I feel I should and then I actually feel it. Worried, I mean,' he explained, irritation seeping into his voice.

'Why? Tom's a great guy and you know I can take care of…'

'Yeah, but he seems serious…with you. Or maybe, you seem serious with him. So, you care about him which means you could get hurt.'

'Since when do you care about my romantic entanglements and their tragic consequences?'

'Um…since we share the same couch? I don't know, I guess it happened after you were born and they told me you're my little sis and I gotta protect you.'

Jane smiled.

'Yeah, but I'm older now.'

'You're still Janey,' Trent corrected her.

'And Janey has never had problems in this department,' she told him.

'Not yet…'

'Trent!'

'Look, I'm sorry I got all stupid and drove to Tom's. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Cuz I wanted to be able to sleep.'

'Right, I am sure sleep was your main concern. But tell me, how does Daria fit into all of this?' she asked for the hundredth time.

'I didn't know the directions to Tom's house.'

'I drew you a map two weeks ago!' Jane exclaimed upset.

'Yeah, I think I used that as a napkin. I remember we ordered lasagna and…'

'Trent.'

'Right, Daria. I brought her along to help me out. When we got there, we…found out you were out, but we stayed a little while longer. We walked a bit, talked, you know, the usual. Then we fell asleep in the car.'

Jane was staring at him as if he had grown another head.

'Just like that? You ended up sleeping together in the car? In front of Tom's house?'

'Pretty much.'

'You do realize that it sounds ludicrous.'

'Hey, if you had been there, you would have understood.'

'I almost wish I had,' she said, smiling ruefully. 'How did Daria react to all of this? I mean I imagine she freaked.'

Trent coughed loudly and brushed a hand over his eyes.

'She was fine. She didn't mind.'

'Really? Okay, then, why the heck did you speed off when Tom woke you in the morning? He said you drove out of there like a lunatic.'

But Trent wasn't listening anymore. Janey was safe, Tom was far away and the memory of the previous night was still fresh before his eyes.

It had been strange, creepy, awkward, scary, stupid, silly and ultimately fun. He had never felt so alive in a long time. And it had felt so new to him even if he'd had bigger experiences on the road with the band.

But he'd never slept with a girl in the same car without having previously done something with her and he'd never felt so comfortable walking in the middle of the night, looking for a payphone. He'd never fallen asleep on someone's shoulder without getting his neck strained, he'd never used someone else's bathroom for cleaning up, he'd never met a real dentist before, he'd never stalked her sister's boyfriend and his car had never started so fast before, when he sped out of Tom's drive way. Also, he'd never felt so good about driving and so bad about one pair of glasses.

It had been a curiously wild night, even though one could say nothing had really happened.

For him it was fresh and new and slightly exciting, because it was different.

'God, Trent, are you even awake right now or are you already having REM?' Jane asked angrily, though she couldn't hide a small grin.

'The latter,' he said and he crashed on the bed next to her, ruffling her hair in the process.

Janey smiled and shook her head. Before closing his eyes, Trent caught her mischievous smile, meaning she was up to no good.

* * *

Later that evening, he was standing in the kitchen, by the sink, staring at his reflection in the metal tap. And he was waiting for something to happen. The band was sitting around the table. It was another one of their band meetings. And it was going nowhere as usual. No one was fighting this time, they were all eating leftovers from the fridge, but that wasn't such a big improvement.

Trent couldn't join them. He felt a bit too full for food. He had no appetite.

He had to know what was going on at Daria's.

What had happened?

He remembered following her with his eyes to her front door, as she had turned the knob and entered her house like a miserable prisoner going back to jail. After that, nothing.

She hadn't called here, because he had checked the phone. Jane hadn't gone to see her because she had come home from school and locked herself in her room and not even Tom had bothered to show up around the house to start a conversation about Daria.

Everyone was tense.

He knew Daria was probably _very_ grounded which meant she wasn't allowed to see anyone, least of all Jane. And he bet he was the last person she wanted to see. He had got her in this mess after all. She had a right to be upset with him. But he hoped she wasn't.

He was waiting for someone to tell him _something_.

'We're out of beer…uh, just so you know,' Jessie said.

They needed someone sober to drive them; they already were a bit tipsy.

Trent agreed, if only for the perspective of getting out of the house and breathing some fresh air. Of course it didn't feel like last night.

Now he was driving without purpose. It made no difference to him where he was going. Last night had been meaningful and now he felt he was betraying someone he did not know for driving to get some _meaningless_ beer.

He still couldn't get her face out of his mind. Not her usual Daria face.

It was that other face, the face she had made when she had woken up and stared into his eyes, blinking sleepily.

It hadn't been the face of someone shocked and outraged to find themselves in a car alone with him at eleven in the afternoon.

It had been the face of someone who was sorry that her safe haven had been destroyed. It was exactly how he felt every day, his personal sanctuary was being invaded by thousands of little inconveniences he did not need, among which life and the band were at the very top, and he had no way of protecting himself against them. But the funny thing was that she'd looked as if she wanted to go back to sleep with him, like she was part of his circle, like she wasn't one of the external inconveniences. And he knew he felt the same way, which did not make any sense at all for various reasons, one being that it was absurd to feel so comfortable with an antisocial teenager who rejected everyone she met and two, that it was even more absurd to accept the kind of girl he usually rejected.

Daria was going places. She was smart, judgemental, misunderstood, intellectual, bookish, unreasonable, cynical and pessimistic. All these compiled would make a person he would instantly fear. Not because he couldn't understand them, but because he could understand them all too well. They used those traits as simple labels they applied in each situation just to get what they wanted, which was so different from what he wanted.

So, he had met people like Daria and he had run from them.

But he had never met _Daria_.

Because she was all of that, but she was something more, something so comforting and nice that he couldn't actually describe or define, but which made him forget about his anxieties, at least for a while. Maybe it was her humour, maybe it was her careless attitude, maybe it was her refusal to try anything new. Maybe it was the fact that they rejected the same things.

He couldn't tell. He just couldn't yet.

What he could do was call her, to see if she was alright. It would be a short, friendly call. He'd just say hi and apologize and tell her again that it had been fun. But that would be downright stupid and useless.

He decided to wait for Janey to tell him what had happened.

As he passed the Mall he caught a short glimpse of a skinny little redhead crossing the street. At first he wasn't sure it was her, but he'd recognize that high-pitched, shrill voice anywhere. Not to mention, she was wearing her trademark pink shirt.

He sighed and watched her walking down the street, swinging her hips to and fro, yelling loudly into her phone. She was carrying a shopping bag.

Max nudged Nick in the ribs and said something that sounded like 'Yo, hot redhead to your left.'

'Whoa, redhead, three o'clock! _Your _three o'clock doofus!'

'Slow down, Trent, hot chick here, we don't wanna miss her,' Max complained.

Trent frowned and stepped on the pedal.

'Hey!'

'Hey, stop!'

'She's just some kid,' he muttered annoyed and turned left.

'She didn't look that young,' Jessie argued. 'We should talk to her.'

'I don't care, I'm not doing that,' Trent replied.

'But she's hot man…' Jessie said.

'No, she's not.'

'Come on, man, we could invite her to one of our gigs!' Max said.

'Like we'd want a little girl like her coming to our gigs,' he said, smiling. 'She's not my type.'

'Oh, right, cuz Monique is sooo much better,' Nick intervened.

'Yeah, she's your type, alright, white trash,' Max retorted.

'She served her purpose,' he said coolly.

'_Served_?' Nick asked. 'You mean you're not doing her anymore?'

'Officially, no. I might change my mind though. Hmm, no, I won't,' Trent said firmly. He hated the hesitation in his voice. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone.

'Oho, look who's being a bigger man!' Nick exclaimed.

'You'll shut up, unless you want me to kick you out of my car,' he said, frowning.

'So, tell us now, who is your type?' Max asked mockingly. 'We're really curious.'

Trent stopped for a moment to think.

Blank. Complete blank in his mind.

He saw a pool of light in front of him. It was large and warm and it was lined by a dark figure, a dark shape in the horizon. Maybe it was someone.

He sighed. It was just a truck.

He wanted to find some meaning. Ultimately, he was alone.

But as he looked at the passenger seat of his car, he remembered her face.

And being alone felt better.

* * *

At three a.m. in the morning he was cracking Janey's door open. The girl was slouched on her bed in an impossible position, sleeping heavily. He looked about the room blindly, trying to make out the figures in the dark.

He stubbed his toe three times.

He was looking for a book. He remembered seeing Jane with a book around the house. She'd told him it was from Daria.

He walked over to her nightstand and started silently rummaging through it.

He came across what he thought was that book. It had the same green covers. He wasn't sure whether this one was it but he would, for no reason, wake up his sister. He didn't want her to ask him questions, because he wouldn't be able to answer any of them and he'd just feel worse.

He slowly and carefully made his way out of the room.

When he got into the kitchen he allowed himself to look. T.S. Eliot, _The Waste Land_.

His soul soared towards the ceiling. All these months he had been looking for the right name and now it was hitting him square between the eyes.

Waste Land.

He crawled into his bed and held the book between the tips of his fingers.

He closed his eyes and smelt the pages. His palms were sweaty. All he could smell was the closed air in his room.

He wrinkled his nose and turned the first page.

_Property of Daria Morgendorffer, 1994_, was written right above the title.

It was her handwriting. He did the maths. She must have been twelve.

When she was twelve, he was nineteen.

She was still so much older than him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello there my awesome readers! Yep, I have updated once again. My Trent/Daria obsession is only growing bigger and bigger so be warned :)**

**Thanks so much for the lovely reviews for the last chapter, you guys know how to spoil me. So here it goes:**

**Shiva the Sarcastic: The band dynamics is different in this fic because it's not like in a TV show and I can flesh them out a little and make them a bit more tangible, cuz let's face it, the show was pretty mild when it came to Mystic Spiral, no matter how great it was on the whole. Thanks for reviewing :)  
**

**TarainthePNW: thanks so much for the really kind review, good comparison between Trent and a narcoleptic, it kind of defines his attitude. Happy you liked the small details in the chapter, I felt they had their own importance in the scheme of things. Thanks again.**

**SSJ04 Mewtwo: Yep, I know it's a big difference but to me, it seemed a bit silly that Trent would stay away from her for a difference of five years. Don't know, it just felt right to make Trent older, make the gap wider and their bond stronger this way. Thanks :)**

**HecatonchiresLM: I know, it's all Trent there :) Thanks for reviewing.**

**Sun-chan1: I loved the last line too, it felt like the right thing to say at that point:) Don't worry, spoilers, Trent and Daria will talk in this chapter :)**

**RoziCanuti: Hey, Trent was kinda my favourite too, thanks for the kind words:)**

**Dear Near Scary: Thanks, I love it when I end it right:)**

**nevillesdashiz: (lol, awesome name) Glad you liked the look inside Trent, you'll get more of that, but also a lot of Daria/Trent goodness:)**

**Anonymous reviewers, thanks a bunch! **

**Now without further ado...  
**

_7: Of Human Bonding_

For five days, he kept the book on him whenever he could. It was like a talisman. He drove to the store with it, went to have a drink with the guys with it safely tucked in his back pocket and even played at the gig with _Waste Land_ sleeping on a small stool next to the stage.

Every day he read a page from it. One at a time, no rush for him, just to make sure he'd get where he wanted. And he couldn't read faster than that. He had a lot to think about each time so he couldn't fog his mind with anything else.

When he went to bed at night he felt a bit lighter, but only a bit. It was like his mind had been cut into many small pieces and he was slowly becoming aware of each one. He liked to pick them up and then drop them back into the cluster of his thoughts. It lulled him to sleep.

Daria still hadn't come by. He was beginning to grow concerned.

And he was becoming more and more impatient which was new to him. He never got very much excited about anything, because he always suspected he'd be disappointed some way or another, so he tried not to expect anything that would make him have a reaction.

Daria had called Jane though, but his sister hadn't been able to tell him much about it because she was always away with Tom. The most he had managed to get was that Daria was fine and that she was taking her punishment with as much dignity as possible. Janey seemed oddly reluctant to talk about her.

He suspected that phone call had not gone very well.

The second time Daria called Jane, she was in the kitchen and Trent was finally able to hear a couple of words here and there.

'Sure, I'll come by...well yeah, I mean I was just finishing off this poor replica of a slightly handicapped Matisse but I will help you in this dire issue if I must,' Jane chipped over the phone.

Trent raised an eyebrow. When she was done, he carefully put the phone back in its receiver, a thing which he rarely did. Jane threw him a look.

'So, what was all that about?'

'Daria needs me to come over and help her with parental problems.'

'Her parents are letting her see you?'

'Yeah, well, Daria doesn't see anyone when she is _not_ grounded, so they've realized there's no use.'

'Aha. I'm glad, I guess,' he mumbled, pouring himself some milk.

'Oh, yeah, that milk expired a year ago, Trent,' she said, taking the glass and spilling its contents in the sink.

'Damn and I felt like getting some calcium this morning,' he said coughing.

Jane shrugged her shoulders. She washed the glass and put it back in its place.

'So...what parental problems?'

'Why do you care, calcium man?'

'Well...she's your friend and...mine too,' he said, struggling with the words.

'So, I wanna know,' he concluded.

Jane sighed. 'You know her, she's always having some small argument with her folks.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, it's not like this time was such a big deal.'

'Yeah, but...this time it _was_ different, cuz it was kinda my fault.'

'No. You know whose fault it was? Mine. For thinking I could have a night by myself with Tom,' she finally snapped.

'What...?'

'When it's not Daria, it's you. It's like you're both intent on making me feel bad about spending time with Tom. I feel like I'm being punished for being his girlfriend.'

'What the hell are you talking a...'

'Let's just say Tom and I had this ridiculous argument and it didn't end so well. I mean we're okay now, but I know he still thinks he's right which just makes me want to pop an eye socket.'

'Whoa, an argument? You sound pissed.'

'You think?'

'So? You argued...'

'Well, yeah. It's really stupid and silly and not worth mentioning.'

'Janey, I'm barely around anyway. At least tell me when I am,' he said, his face serious and alert.

'Well, you're going to laugh. I didn't tell Daria. She wouldn't have laughed,' Jane said knowingly.

'I don't under...'

'Tom got all up in my face about leaving you alone with Daria and letting you 'drive her around', as he put it. He said it wasn't safe because she's young and you're...'

Trent felt his blood slowly travelling to his brain in warm, almost hot gushes of undiluted anger. He tried pushing it back, but it was too late. His mind had already been corrupted and all he could think of was how he could hurt Tom and get away with it. He wouldn't be violent. That wasn't who he was. He would just punch him in the face and then take off.

He couldn't believe he had had the nerve to complain to Janey about this and make her look like the bad guy. Tom acted as if he understood, but he was sure he could never understand what he and Daria had.

He stopped for a moment and considered the thought. What did he and Daria have? What was it? Was it something palpable? Was it lasting? Did it even make sense?

He gazed into his sister's sharp blue eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

Maybe it was just a lukewarm friendship that was more of a silent bond between two slackers. Sure, she used to have a crush on him, but that was eons ago, when they didn't know each other, when they didn't really understand each other.

He half-guessed he could never have what Daria and Jane had, with anyone. _She_ would certainly never trust him. And he didn't want that kind of responsibility. He had disappointed her before, hadn't he?

'Much older?' he finished the sentence for Jane.

She shuffled her boots awkwardly and flipped her bangs out of her face.

'More or less.'

'So, your boyfriend thinks I'm some sort of...pervert,' he concluded.

'No, Trent, he was just being overly protective, because you're almost seven years older than her and he's seen the girls you hang out with.'

'Uh, it's not his place to be protective. Doesn't he know I am Daria's friend? And that I'd never lay a finger on her?'

Although, technically speaking, he had, but he was not going to get into that.

Jane smiled sadly and nodded her head.

'Yeah, see why I'm upset with the jerk?'

'Right...Wait, weren't you defending him a minute ago? Cuz it kind of looked like that.'

'What are you implying?' she asked haughtily.

'Do you believe it too?'

'Believe what?'

'That I'm too old to hang out with your friend?'

'Of course not! But Trent, you gotta consider, you forced a teenage girl out of her house at 2 in the morning and made her follow you on some creepy journey of self-discovery. Not to mention, Tom found you sleeping in that car and it all got out of hand from there and...'

'Why don't you say what really bothers you?' Trent asked louder than intended.

'What do you mean?'

'You got upset Tom put the blame on you.'

'Well, sure, but I...'

'You got upset because he's being too protective of Daria.'

Jane opened her mouth in surprise.

'You did not just say that.'

Just then the phone rang again and before Jane could grab it, Trent made a quick dash for it and answered.

'Hello?'

'...oh, um...'

His heart stopped for a split-second. Then it began running very fast again.

'Trent?'

He felt pain.

Jane had just nudged him in the ribs and she'd taken the phone from him.

'Sorry, Daria, it was just Trent...'

Jane quickly skipped over the stairs to her room and shut the door loudly.

Trent sighed and fell down on a chair. It was his turn to put the blame on someone. But he could only see himself.

* * *

He was on the road again. It had not been planned. It had just been a spur of the moment kind of thing. Jessie had called him saying Nick had found them a gig out of town.

It was all he needed to hear. He'd been sleeping in his own skin for the past couple of days, wondering when he'd grown so old and everyone else so young and vulnerable.

He felt he was standing in an arena and everyone was cheering him on to a certain and slow death. The sun light was shredding his skin and his eyes were watering. And he couldn't touch anything. Everything was sore. He'd felt like this before. It wasn't something new.

But he'd usually forget it, come morning. It would be a figment in his left-side shelf. But Waste Land had made him search those shelves. He'd found his despair was greater than he'd thought.

It was still a thing of dreams. He could get through the day with the same kind of effort. The only pesky side-effect was this new voice in his head that was making him hate himself.

* * *

He'd told Janey he was leaving for three days with the band. She told him to clear his head and come back fresh. She tapped his shoulder lightly when he walked out the door.

That was Janey's way of saying that she loved him and that she wasn't upset anymore. But he was still angry with himself, with Tom and with her. And when he stared back at her from the mail box, he realized she was too.

Jessie was driving the Tank this time. Trent was sitting in the back, writing some new lyrics for a new song they'd come up with the previous night.

The town they were driving to was 90 miles away. It was a long drive for the Tank, but the guys were excited for the new gig and didn't care how long it would take to get there. There was also the fact that it was a new town, where people didn't know them and they could pose as successful and misunderstood. Chicks swooned over the depressed post-punk guitarist.

They knew they had the entertainment in the bag. At least for one night, until the girls and the guys realized how completely immature and reckless they really were.

'Yo, Trent, I know you've been saving yourself for the right Siamese twins dude but tonight we gotta have that foursome we talked about,' Max said.

'Go fuck yourself, Max, it will have the same effect,' Trent muttered, smiling despite himself.

'Sheesh, who cut off your balls?'

'Your mom. Now, can you come up with a good chorus for a song about burning underwear?'

'Aww, not that again...' he complained.

'Hmm, how about, 'underwear make me sweat, with your crotch fire'?' Jessie suggested.

'Too abstract,' Max said, shaking his head.

'Yeah, good point. Maybe if we say, 'with the fire in your crotch'?' Trent asked.

'Both versions work. We'll have to try them both to see which sounds better,' Nick suggested.

They were quiet for a while.

Trent soon got hungry. He started fishing around for some leftovers. His hand was touching the most disgusting things on the planet known to man.

But he also found the scotch tape.

He held it in his hands for a good minute. He didn't know why this tape was suddenly important. He thought of throwing it away. He was going to ask Jess, when he was suddenly hit by a lightning bolt of memories.

Jess had fixed Daria's glasses with that.

He remembered how she'd looked so ridiculous with the tape between her eyes. And how she had been so flustered and uncomfortable. And how they'd sat down and talked about life and he'd been relieved to find that she thought he was not completely wasting his life. It had made him feel better about himself.

How many years had passed?

Two? No, three.

How could he have forgotten so quickly?

The rest of the drive, he just kept his head down pretending to sleep. But he was actually staring at the tape on his lap.

* * *

The guys had been invited to a college party some blocks away. Everyone from the gig was going there. He didn't really feel like going. He just wanted to get something for himself and then spend the night with himself, enjoying his solitude. He liked falling in a state of semi-consciousness when he was alone. He couldn't do that with others, because they always demanded his attention.

So he dragged his feet to the party, only to have some free beer and watch Nick and Max start a random fight in the back yard.

But he was there for the goods. He found the right people and he stole two packets. Then he left to smoke them by himself and thoroughly taste them.

He got into the Tank, which was parked in an abandoned parking lot next to The Crime, the pub they had played at.

He started the engine and started driving around town. And smoking weed.

He found the two activities combined perfectly.

He drove himself out of town. He saw a street sign right in front of him. Another town just 50 miles away.

Hell, why not? He was going to smoke his brains out and then find himself five Moniques.

He stopped at a gas station 5 miles from the town. He asked the cashier there where he could find the best restaurants in town. Yeah, he felt lucky and rich tonight. He felt like going to a fancy restaurant, eating all he could, and then not paying. Just walking out and not paying.

The cashier gave him a list of names. He mentioned a couple of hotels too. That sparkled Trent's interest. A hotel? Wouldn't that be a perfect way to complete the night?

He'd go to a hotel, check in, order all the food service he could, eat it, get sick and throw up all over the walls, piss on all the crap in the room, break the mirror in the bathroom, the phone, the bed, crash the TV and throw it out the window, then fill the bathtub with water and glass shards and throw himself in it.

He wrote down the list of hotels and thanked the old man. He should have filled the Tank with gas but he decided he was too tired for that and drove straight ahead.

He took his time, driving as slowly as possible through town, and finally arriving at the best looking hotel around.

He parked some feet away from it, not meaning to scare anyone inside. He put on his black leather jacket and zipped it up.

He was going to walk in when he felt his pockets filled with weed.

He decided to sell it first and then get some honest money for it. Hell, he didn't want to crash some fancy hotel and not have at least 100 bucks.

He walked to the nearest pub and got rid of his part with 125 bucks. Not too bad for someone as bad at negotiating as him.

Only then did he have the real courage to walk through the rotating doors with as much smoothness as he could muster in his two left feet.

He demanded more than asked for a room, but his voice was so calm and low that the concierge was not concerned.

'I'm sorry sir, but almost all of our rooms have been booked for a marketing conference.'

'That's impossible...I reserved a room.'

'On what name, Sir?'

'Um...Jackson,' he muttered, blinking dazed.

The woman smiled pityingly.

'Alright, Sir, let me see what I can do...'

'Look, I can pay good money for a room so..uh, just make sure you get me one, with a nice view too. I know...there's not much to see, but still...do you have one of those kidney-shaped pools?'

She nodded her head sympathetically when he saw him dump 125 dollars on the counter.

She made a few calls.

'We might have a free room after 2. A gentleman on the fourth floor is leaving tonight. But you'd have to wait till 2 a.m.'

It was now close to one in the morning. He shrugged his shoulders. Of course he could wait. Did he have anything better to do with his time?

'So...until I get my room, can I eat somewhere? Do you guys have a restaurant?'

'Certainly, but the restaurant and the conference room are booked...the conference, you see.'

'Okay, okay, but there has to be one free table...I mean I'm really hungry, I'd pay good money,' he repeated sleepily.

'Maybe you should rest here, Sir, you look tired.'

'Don't tell me how I look. I just want a table,' he muttered, feeling his knees going numb. His eyes were red by now. 'Please.'

He was led to the bar. They would serve him the food there, as not to inconvenience the people in the restaurant.

He got up on the high stool and ordered some boiled eggs and salmon. And a light beer with some tortillas.

The waiter nodded his head and left.

From time to time, he could catch a glance at the party going on in the adjacent room. He heard the music and the loud talking.

He saw many middle-aged men in tuxes of different colours. He shuddered.

He swallowed down the beer.

He spat it all over the floor.

In the corner of the room, he saw Daria. She was leaning against a tall, white pillar, flipping through what looked like an insurance catalogue.

He swore and almost fell from his chair.

It couldn't be her. Not here, out of all places. Not at the fancy hotel that he wanted to trash. Not on the night he was going to go over the edge.

What a feckless turn of events.

He rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe she wasn't really there. He was having a vision.

But he saw her father walk up to her and pat her slightly on the shoulder.

She told him something he couldn't hear. Her dad made an agitated face and then left her, looking about the room wildly. He was looking for someone.

Trent worried he would walk into the bar and see him so he got up and went to the bathroom.

After taking a leek, he sat with his cheeks against the cold tiles and started counting to 100.

When he was done, he opened his eyes. Someone had come in. He heard feet shuffling on the floor. Heavy steps.

The person entered the stall next to his.

Out of perverse curiosity, he snuck a look to see their feet.

Black boots.

Shit, he was in the ladies' room.

His heart crawled out of his skin and landed with a thud on the floor. He stepped on it and felt the heavy burden wear down.

The girl walked out after a while and went to wash her hands.

He slowly stepped out of the stall, keeping his eyes to her back and her lowered head.

She wasn't looking in the mirror. That's why she didn't see him.

He knew she wouldn't be the type to look in the mirror a lot. She would avoid it when she could.

He took in her shape, her hair, her dangled skirt, the smell of strange sheets stuck to her skin and the cherry soap in her hands.

He wanted to protect her. She was his little sister. He tried calling her Janey in his mind.

He ended up feeling sick and confused. He couldn't call her Janey. It just felt wrong. Very, very wrong.

His fingers found their way to her nape.

She shrieked and jumped up but he quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, urging her not to shout.

Her eyes widened in shock.

'Don't yell, Daria, it's just me,' he said, not releasing her still.

She started shaking. Her eyes grew even wider.

He had given her a real fright.

'Sorry, I, uh, sneaked up on you. I know you hate that,' he said, his hand slowly falling to her shoulder.

She took a haggard breath.

'Trent...what the hell are you doing here?'

'Um...beats me, I was looking for a hotel and then I accidentally...'

'What are you doing here?' she asked again, staring at his red eyes.

'I swear, Daria, it was a coincidence.'

'What?'

'I wasn't following you.'

She made a confused face. 'I hadn't assumed that.'

'Oh. Well. I just...I just lost my way. I drove all the way here and I got a room at this hotel. I didn't know you'd be here.'

'Oh, okay. I see. Odd running into you then,' she said awkwardly.

'We had a gig tonight, the band and I, so I was just looking for a place to sleep.'

'Right. A gig. That's nice,' she said, looking away.

'Yep, I thought I'd spend the money on a fancy hotel,' he said, feeling very stupid.

'How is that working for you?' she asked, raising a brow.

'Not that well. I mean...I'm in a bathroom with you,' he said, chuckling.

Her face changed. She frowned, looking slightly put off.

'What do you mean?'

'After what happened, you were the last person I wanted to run into,' he lied. He didn't know what was happening to him, or who was making him say this.

'How so?' she asked dryly.

'Well, I mean, after that night, I didn't hear from you and I felt pretty stupid.'

'Oh, yeah. Well, I couldn't just call, you know,' she explained, looking down.

'I know. Because it was embarrassing what we did, running around like that,' he continued, 'and it was worse cuz I didn't know what I was doing. And neither did you.'

'I knew perfectly well,' she replied crisply.

'Eh, we acted like kids.'

'We _are_ kids.'

'Nope, I'm seven years too old for that,' he replied, looking in the mirror.

She made an annoyed sound.

'You're implying you're more mature than I am? Is that it?'

Trent turned towards her with an alien smile on his face.

'So, what's the occasion?' he asked, pointing towards what he presumed was the restaurant.

'Dad dragged me to a conference with him,' she muttered angrily.

'Ah, part of your punishment?'

'No. I wanted to go.'

'You don't sound like it.'

'I sound _fine_.'

'You sound angry.'

'Well, Trent, that might have something to do with you.'

'How did I get you angry? By pointing out some facts?'

'No. You're just being ridiculous. And probably drunk and high too.'

'That's not true...'

'You're not really being yourself. So maybe you should leave. I'll talk to you when we get back to Lawndale.'

'I am being myself more than you know,' he replied gruffly. 'And Lawndale won't be any different when we get back.'

'What are you implying?'

'That you're still going to be silent. And I'm still going to sleep through the day and not care. And we're going to be indifferent and we'll move on.'

'I don't...'

'We'll get nowhere. And I'm not against that, really. But Janey _is_ my sister and you _are_ her best friend. And you are my friend, so...'

'So?'

'So, I should make an effort, shouldn't I?' he asked her, feeling as empty as a shell. '_We _should, shouldn't we?'

'You're asking me?'

'Well, you are the brain, aren't you?'

He instantly regretted saying that. He knew, right before uttering those words, that they would be his fall.

'I can't take your crap right now,' she snapped and turned around.

His eyes widened. Panic swept over him like a heavy torrent. Fear was going to immobilise him.

He quickly dashed forward and grabbed her arms. He pushed her into the opposite wall softly.

She didn't squirm. He was stronger. She just started trembling again. She was not scared, she was just hurt.

'Let me go,' she spoke.

'Just...just hear me out, okay? Don't just run off like you always do, okay?' he asked, staring into her almond eyes.

She sighed and tried to stop her trembling.

'I'm listening...'

'You're just this thing, like a bright thing I'm never going to reach,' he began, his vision blurring. His mind was warped. Alcohol and weed was making his mind foggy.

She opened her mouth to disagree, but he shook his head and went on, more precipitately this time.

'I couldn't help you with your project, I couldn't, okay? I didn't do it. I knew you needed it, but I just didn't feel like doing it. So I made up a silly excuse like 'the inspiration didn't hit me'. It always does. I just don't use it. Didn't use it then. Took you for granted. Thought you wouldn't mind. But then...then I minded,' he blabbered, resting his palms on each side of her body.

'But it's a small thing to get upset about,' he said afterwards. 'You should just forget it already. Cuz now I know, okay? So you don't have to worry. You can forget it. Because now I know I don't like failing you.'

She stared at him wide-eyed. She'd never heard him speak like this before.

'I have forgotten it. It wasn't a big deal,' she said softly.

'Why? Cuz I'm just Trent?' he asked bitterly.

'No. It's because I cared about our friendship more.'

'That's pretty useless,' he said listlessly.

'Why?'

'We don't have a real friendship. We're just...apart. We are.'

Surprisingly enough, she agreed.

'Yeah... I know.'

'So why bother?' he asked tiredly.

'I'm not. You're the one getting all worked up,' she accused him, frowning.

'I don't care we're apart. We still...have something,' he added almost wistfully.

She closed her eyes. No. What was he doing?

'Please don't.'

'It's something that I can ignore. But I don't want to.'

'Shut up,' she whispered to herself.

'And if you were older, and if these years weren't between us, if you were...'

She was barely breathing. She couldn't go through this. Not again. Not with him. It was enough. She had got over it. Why was he doing this to her? Who was he to bring it back? He had no right.

'I said don't. I can't talk about it anymore,' she said, trying to get away from him.

He tried keeping her to his side, but she slipped away from his grip and ran out of the bathroom.

For a moment he stared at the cold, empty air left by her absence before he rushed right after her.

He looked around wildly.

She had disappeared into the restaurant.

He chased her in. He bumped into a lot of suits and trays with wine and he almost tripped from the many black shoes standing in his way but he didn't care.

He had to find her. He couldn't say goodbye like that.

A pair of arms circled his wrists and locked him in a tight grip. He fell to the ground. His bones were breaking.

His face hit the green carpet.

Then he felt the salty streets under his tongue. His shins were bruised. He had been thrown out.

And he'd left his money there.

He was lying in front of the rotating doors, his face a crust of pebbles and dirt.

He closed his eyes.

The ecstatic feeling of pain and adrenaline was shooting through him again.

The excitement of that one night with her.

Everything in his body was screaming, but he just lay there peacefully.

He liked Daria Morgendorffer.

He was screwed.

* * *

**If you feel like Trent, hit the button and leave a review :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well yes, it's time for my monthly/weekly/yearly/who-can-ever-tell? update. I am such a terrible updater, seriously, I have no schedule, no routine, no rhythm, I just write and submit like a little bitch. And I sometimes write and rewrite and wait till I feel right to post. Which is even bitchier. But to all of you who read this lovely mess, worry not, I love Daria and Trent too much to ever let that affect me. So I really hope you like this chapter as it's the best thing I can churn out at this hour and this point of my life. **

**Big, big, big thanks for all your lovely reviews, you all know who you are and you all know you make my day:) Thanks anonymous reviewers too for your kind input. I am really happy all of you seem pleased with my rendition of Trent. I really hope I don't go and screw it up. If he seems too OOC sometimes, remember, I'm trying to bring him to life and it's not always easy. But yeah, I may tend to exaggerate. Drama queen is my middle name.**

**Enough with my mini-drabble though. I'll let you read in pace.**

**Please tell me what you think and enjoy! **

* * *

_8: Psycho Therapy _

Sleeping under a black sky is never comforting.

The scorched roof revealed some grey patches here and there, almost as if a small bird had pecked at the ceiling. The Tank smelt of burnt oily hair and cement. The jacket he was dozing off on was filled with all sorts of odours from a different life. The windows were drawn to the brim and the clear, blue sky looked sawed off at the rim. The radio waves hit him in the chest.

He raised his head. Max's peaceful figure was spread out next to his. One of his legs was draped over his in a most embarrassing way. He shrugged it off quickly and turned to the other side. He could still feel his arm leaning against his scalp, like a rake that had just been taken out of the earth.

A sense of power came over him. He could grab Max by the shoulders and hurl him across the van. He wasn't going to do anything like that, but just the mere possibility of this act tingled him inside. He touched his wrists quickly to check his pulse. It was a buzzing noise, like that of a bee flapping its wings frantically against a pane.

When he fell back into slumber and his neck felt for the briefest of moments a slow disjunction from his head, the bruises of the previous night emerged in his dream like the yellow teeth of a crazed beast, like the bright stars, come morning.

He dreamt he was in her room. He knew it was her room because the walls were padded and there was a collection of bones in a corner. There were also many books strewn across the floor like shed clothes. He was lying on her bed calmly, staring at the cracked ceiling.

She walked in, wearing a ridiculously long T-shirt with Mark Twain's expressive face plastered on the front.

It felt very vivid, this dream, almost like a memory – as if this had happened before and he had seen all of this. He couldn't remember when this had happened, but he was sure he had seen Daria in that T-shirt before.

She looked very nervous and uncomfortable. She sat down at the very edge of the bed and she started talking. Her mouth was moving, but she was looking down, hugging herself tightly. She smiled and looked up at him shortly.

He smiled as well. It was only after she opened her mouth again that he realized he couldn't hear a single word of what she was saying. She was mute. He hadn't noticed before. Whatever she was saying was not coming out; he saw her lips moving but all he got was silence.

He strained his ears in order to hear her better, but it was not an issue of audibility. She simply had no voice. He raised himself on his shoulders and drew closer to her. He watched her dark irises grow and shrink as the darker shadows of the wall shifted in her eyes and made her face look smaller. Her body had turned stiff when he had approached her. He was just trying to understand what she was saying, he was just trying to listen.

He raised his arm and touched her hair. She flinched and shied away immediately. He tried again. His hand landed on her shoulder awkwardly. She rose quickly and walked a few steps away from the bed.

He would have wanted to stop and leave it there. She did not want to be touched. It was understandable. He wasn't someone she was comfortable with and he wouldn't have wanted to push her away.

But this was a dream and he was not aware of her feelings, not enough to be smart or careful.

He rose and stumbled over one of the books. He straightened himself and walked up to her.

'Daria. I can't hear you,' he said hoarsely.

Her face was scrunched up in an expression of deep concentration and her small frown cut through her forehead like a heavy, old knife.

'Can you hear me? I think you can,' he said, staring at the deep cut in her forehead. It gave her appearance of sense of nobility and pride.

And suddenly he realized that what he was dreaming was true. Daria had always listened to him, but he had never listened back. He had never really heard her.

He felt dry tears well up in his eyes, almost like small specks of dust caught up in a turmoil of feelings that were not meant to be his.

'I wish I could hear you,' he said, his voice fading towards the end. 'I just want to hear you.'

Daria moved away from him and went towards her desk. She grabbed a small piece of paper and started writing on it. Her hand moved quickly and elegantly, almost as if she were painting. She folded the paper and gave it to him. He gripped it tightly in his fist. He was going to read it and he knew whatever was coming was going to make him feel worse.

He fumbled with the piece of paper, his hands shaking, until he managed to open it.

'Yo, Trent, wake up man. We're home.'

* * *

When he walked into Jane's room later that afternoon, he noticed a small web cam sitting nonchalantly on her computer. He did not conceal his surprise. He had come back home after two days of frolicking, drinking, smoking and wandering aimlessly to find his sister happily comfortable with a camera spying her every move.

'Meet Jane-cam, Jane time, all the time,' she told him proudly, giving him her trademark smirk.

'It seems...unholy.'

'Huh, the first time I hear you say that word about me, or anyone else for that matter. That trip must have shaken you up good. Did you confront your inner daemons?'

'Something like that. They lost the battle, as you can see,' he said, smiling softly.

'I'm happy to hear that. Not to be mean, but I like having you around the house in case I'm in the shower when the pizza guy rings.'

'Hey, it's the basis of our relationship,' he said, patting her on the back.

She sighed and placed her hand over his.

'Look, I am not the one for emotional scenes, but can we get back to how things were? Before I made a big mess out of everything?'

'You never did that,' Trent said, shaking his head.

'Sure I did. I kind of did not trust you, you who are my own flesh and blood. And I let my silly boyfriend get me upset with you. And I am far too cool to let that happen. And you're far too boring for me to have any reasons to be upset with you.'

'Yeah, part of that is true. But we never really had a fight. And...you were right, to be concerned.'

'What does that mean?' Jane said, folding her arms.

'Well, Tom _is_ your boyfriend and Daria _is_ your best friend. I'd be worried too.'

'That thing you said...'

'What thing?'

'You know, that I'm more upset that Tom put the blame on me for everything. I wasn't. I mean that wasn't it. I mean, you weren't completely right about that, just so you know.'

'Really? So what was it then?' he asked, raising a brow.

'Come on, you seriously don't know?'

'Um, nah, I thought it was the Tom thing.'

'Sure, Tom did get on my nerves with his ridiculous tantrums about Daria, but Trent, I was upset with you too. I just couldn't tell you. I thought I could, but I couldn't. I don't think I can now. Cuz it's silly and you're going to laugh. And if you're not going to laugh then it's serious and I'll feel worse. But you were a reason too.'

Trent watched her mystified. He could barely register what she was saying.

'Janey...what the heck are you...'

'I don't want you messing with Daria's...feelings. And I was afraid you were doing that.'

Trent went visibly stiff.

'I know, I know, you were not doing that and I know that it's the last thing on your mind and that it is even silly to consider such a notion, but you understand what I'm saying, right? She's _Daria_ and she...well you know how she is with other people. She has a hard time connecting with anyone. And I was just afraid. I was afraid she'd get hurt.'

Although his mind could barely keep up with what he was saying, he struggled to speak without stumbling over his words.

'Why would she get hurt...with me? You said you trust me.'

'God, Trent, it's not that, are you that thick? She's always been different around you.'

His heart started thumping very fast in his chest, like a fiery engine ready to crash. The overwhelming feeling of consuming fear and beauty, the thrill of not knowing where he stood or where he was going, the agonizing scratch at the back of his chest that urged him to run, to go outside and throw himself at the mercy of an external force, that was beyond him.

But no, the quiet storm in his mind would be his and his alone. And he would never tell Jane that he knew Daria had had a crush on him.

'I know, but she can't be the same with everyone,' he said matter-of-factly.

'You don't get it. And I suspect you never will. But she does care about you Trent,' she said, watching him carefully.

'I like her too,' he said simply, trying to hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

'And I just didn't want you to make her feel it was...more than that,' Jane added carefully.

'More,' he repeated, staring at the web cam.

Jane got up quickly and wiped her sweaty hands on her knees.

'Yeah, more than friendship I mean.'

'What the...? Why would I make her feel that?' he asked, struggling to sound surprised.

'Because you're unconscious of your effect on her and you could do it without thinking,' Jane argued.

'I would never, ever, ever do that to her, consciously or not,' he retorted, raising his voice to sound more and more bewildered.

'How do you even know that? I mean you're not always in control of your actions and she might interpret them as something else...'

'She couldn't do that. I've never done anything to make her think anything like that, ever,' he lied, coughing self-consciously.

'Because you don't see her that way and because you value her friendship, right?' Jane asked.

'What do you think? She's seven years younger than me and she's the smartest person I know. Why would I think of Daria in another way?' he asked, his voice firm and restrained. His shoulders sagged under the pressure of this heavy burden, this heavy lie.

It pained him that age didn't matter as much as it should. It pained him that her intelligence didn't scare him off.

He was being a stupid idiot, a silly, empty-headed high school boy, crushing on a girl far above him in every sense of the word.

And no one was ever going to know.

'Yeah, she is the smartest person you know,' Jane said, smirking in relief. 'Other than me, of course.'

Trent smiled bitterly.

'I'm happy we got that white elephant out of the room. Now we can be incredibly awkward about other less pressing matters, like hormonal swings and sexy lingerie,' Jane joked, hitting him in the ribs.

'Yeah, I think I'm going to lock myself up in my room if you start with that,' he said, ruffling her hair.

'Shut up. I could pick your lock easily.'

'The thought scares me,' he said, looking away.

'So, are you gonna talk about your nefarious descent into Hell or are you going to give me the silent treatment again?'

'Look, this morning I was not really awake for that,' he explained, referring to earlier that day when he had arrived back in Lawndale.

'And are you now, or am I going to have to torture Jesse for the details?'

'Well, I know you'd like that,' Trent replied.

'Not as much as you sharing your band stories with me,' Jane quipped.

Trent smiled weakly and settled on her bed more comfortably. He was prepared to tell her everything, up to the point where he had driven out of town and found Daria at a convention in a hotel. He wouldn't confess that on pain of death.

Jane hadn't mentioned a word of that and she seemed considerably cheerful and content, so it was safe to assume Daria had not mentioned anything about meeting him or their talk for that matter.

He felt as if he was about to tell her a bed story. He had done it before, when Janey was very young. It was the same thing now, he was going to tell her a story and the truth behind those words she would discover much later, when she would be much older.

* * *

Saturday evening found the Morgendorffers packing for the retreat. Quinn and Helen were talking in the kitchen, going over some last-minute details and Jake was fumbling around the bedroom, trying to pick which ties to pack.

Daria was lying in bed, her pillow over her face, mumbling incoherent words to herself. She had a book half-open on her chest.

Her bags were dumped in the doorway. The Quiet Ivy Retreat brochure lay forgotten next to her bed.

She heard the door bell ring but she did not bother to get up.

Helen called Jake and told him to stop lazing about and do something useful, like open the door.

'Jake!'

'I'm coming, I'm coming! I'm just super-busy with packing crucial items for the stupid trip my wife is making me – oh, hi Trent!'

Trent stared at the weary, middle-aged man standing in front of him with a warm, but insecure smile on his face. He wished he could extend his hand and shake his. Maybe give him some strength and some dignity. He knew her dad was a good man. But he was too good for his own sake. Trent felt very uncomfortable around him. Almost as if he was being confronted with a shadow of himself.

'What brings you to Casa Morgendorffer?' he asked jovially.

'Um, hi, Mr. Morgendorffer, I came to speak to Daria.'

'Daria? Really? Well, come on in then. I'm sure she'd be happy to see you. Say, what tie do you think works better with a blue suit?'

Helen Morgendorffer walked into the room, holding a clipboard.

'Trent? What are you doing here so late? Have your parents returned again? Are you in need of a lawyer?'

'Nah, it's alright, I just came to see Daria, if that's okay with you,' he said, his palms digging into his pockets.

'Well, I've got no problem with that, but I'm afraid we're a bit busy at the moment, packing you see. We're going to a retreat.'

Trent frowned. 'A retreat?'

'It's a thing at my job – we're all going and...'

'Mom, dad...Trent.'

His eyes physically hurt because he looked up so fast. She was standing on the landing, watching the scene unfold before her eyes. She was wearing her black skirt and her orange T-shirt, but no cardigan again. Her face was unreadable. Only her eyes were swimming in an ocean of confusion.

Trent felt a large heap of lead drop into his guts.

'Hey, Daria,' he said lightly.

'Hi...'

'Could we talk a bit? It's about Jane,' he lied.

Helen had already left towards the kitchen because her mind was wrapped around what she would say and do tomorrow at the retreat and Jake was walking around aimlessly. Trent felt he was not welcome here.

'Um, I can't right now. I'm really busy.'

'Please, it will only take two minutes.'

'Come on, kiddo, I know you packed already,' Jake told her kindly. 'Maybe Trent needs some help. Speaking of which, which tie do you think - ?'

'No, I'm sorry, I can't talk right now, I still have a lot to do,' she mumbled, looking at her dad worriedly.

'I just...need to talk about Janey a bit. Can't talk to anyone else,' he pleaded.

'Well, I can't help you with that.'

Jake stared at the two of them in confusion. He was starting to realize something was wrong with this entire scene. Daria was upset and she didn't want to talk to Trent. He felt something stir in his chest. What had Trent done to his little girl to incite such a reaction?

'Eh, Trent, I don't think Daria is in the mood right now,' he said, his voice lower and more serious. 'I think you should try another time.'

Trent stared into her eyes with all the desperation and need he could muster. It wasn't much since his face was usually impassive and foreign to all feelings, but the little fragments of imponderability that flew out of his stare into her eyes were laden with a strange sense of loss and discontent.

'We'll talk later,' she assured him, her feet already trying to climb the stairs back up.

_Please don't go into hiding again_, he silently bade her.

Jake was already guiding him towards the door. He had no way to turn but out. And it hurt to watch her leave without a single sign.

He eventually lowered his eyes.

'Good night, Trent, drive safe,' Jake said, forcing a smile on his face, although he was watching his daughter with his left eye.

'Yeah, you too...tomorrow,' Trent muttered miserably.

He half-walked, half-tripped to his car and sat with his head against the wheel for a very long time. He felt he was sleeping, but he could still hear every movement around him.

The Morgendorffer residence looked empty, even though all the windows were lit. Daria's room was the darkest.

He wondered what she was doing up there.

He had lost his game. He should have never come. He didn't know why he was trying. He was the one who had told her things would never change. They would remain the same, him and her.

He was making a lousy effort for nothing. Maybe he was doing it because he liked her, but it wasn't enough.

He was going to risk exposing his stupid crush – for what? For nothing more than a momentary feeling of happiness. A short-lived happiness. A happiness that would bring others pain. It would disappoint Jane. It would disappoint himself.

He was going to forget everything. And make her forget too. He was going to write her a formal apology for everything that had happened and be done with it. It wouldn't take long.

Someone suddenly tapped at his window.

He jumped out of his seat.

It was Daria.

Up close, her frown looked even deeper than before. Her round eyes cut a hole through his window.

He was going to get out of the car but she signalled him not to.

He lowered the window.

She suddenly revealed she was holding something in her fist. She dropped it in his lap. It was a piece of paper.

'Sorry, I can't talk right now,' she muttered. With that, she turned on her heels and walked back into the house.

He felt this might be some twisted aneurism of fate. His dream had merged into reality and had erased the boundaries of illusion and concreteness. He was floating in a preliminary stage of surrealism. Perhaps he wasn't even really here or this wasn't even happening. He would open his eyes and wake up in the Tank again.

He unfolded the piece of paper.

_This is simple. We are friends. We'll always be friends. That is what I want. And I know you want that too. So let's just be friends, Trent. _

He read it over fifteen times. He read it again and again, his mind going numb from thinking so hard. He had never thought so much in his entire life. His entire being was encapsulated in that note and his thoughts were pouring out like a helpless flood.

_So let's just be friends, Trent._

The lion inside of him roared.

He crumpled the paper in his hands.

There was only one word echoing through the open rooms of his mind.

_No.

* * *

_

**In the immortal words of Natalie Portman in (the slightly campy, but thoroughly enjoyable) Black Swan: "I felt it" **

**So, show some love :)  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Bet you're happy I updated, cuz I am :) Ergo, you should be as well. Yeah, that only makes sense to me, sorry. **

**So have I told you guys how awesome you are for your reviews? No? Well, I am so going to say it again. Thanks a million for all the wonderful support! Thanks to the anonymous reviewers for their kind words and thanks to my readers for giving this story so much love :) **

**Hope you'll like my crazy rendition of this episode!  
**

_9: Mart of Darkness_

The quiet calm of the afternoon was making him thirsty. He had gulped down two bottles of orange juice and was reaching for the third. He had been writing for the last two hours, half watching TV, half reminiscing the days in the tent, back when he thought his parents were caring. The sleek cover of Wasteland was perched precariously on his lamp, hovering over his bed. His window was covered with a blue duvet. He had turned on the light. His room looked like a beige cathedral.

'_Strings melting under my fingers_,' he muttered, moving his finger across the strings half-heartedly. '_The sound is pounding in my skin_.'

'Nah, that just sounds cheap,' he muttered.

'_The sound is walking away from me into the…into the…into the what_?'

'Where can a sound go?' he asked himself. 'I feel it's getting away from me. But where is it going?'

'Maybe it's going back,' he muttered. 'Back to when sound mattered. Hmmm, the old days, the golden days…'

'_Melodies, old and new, are the same to me. They're like…like the streets in heaven_,' he said, jotting down the words in his notebook.

'Streets in heaven, that sounds right,' he told himself. It sounded right because it was a pretty sentence, simple yet powerful. But it held nothing to him, emotionally. It had used to. The silliest lyrics had always made sense to him. They had always transported him to a different place. Even the most ridiculous rhymes had pushed him out of himself into a new feeling. Now, he was feeling let down. He was feeling a bit burnt out, like he had given so much to those few empty words, that, the words that really mattered to him now were bereft of any real emotion.

He wasn't empty, he was just slightly bitter.

He sometimes smiled when he peeped at Wasteland standing secretively on his lamp. He sometimes smiled when he took a gulp of orange juice or a silly commercial came on the TV, because his life was easy and comfortable and completely out of any possible danger. And he had many warm things in his life. He was safe and warm.

He hung his head.

He craved her coldness desperately. Like a freezing shower in July.

He heard someone knocking loudly at the door.

He made himself hope it might be someone he wanted to see. But both Janey and Daria were away.

So that left Tom.

His face couldn't have been more disappointed when he saw him standing in the doorway. He was not even angry with him. Not yet.

'Hey…Tom,' he said indifferently.

Tom looked very uncomfortable, like he was about to run off any second. Trent knew he would have wanted to say something about their recent altercation, as they hadn't had a chance to speak privately since that morning, but he seemed to be at a loss for words and hardly ready to breach that topic. Trent noticed he was embarrassed. He found that slightly satisfying.

'Hi, Trent…um long time no talk,' Tom began amicably.

'We did talk yesterday.'

'Yeah, you said 'hey' when I climbed up with Jane to her room. But we didn't get a chance to speak privately…' Tom said.

'Guess not.'

'It's been kind of awkward between us, hasn't it? Ever since…well you'd know better than me.'

'Sorry?'

'I know I shouldn't have made it into a big thing, but you have to understand – I had not expected you there at that hour with Daria – '

'No matter. It happened. At least you didn't give Janey any trouble about it,' Trent replied.

'Ah…so you know about that…'

'Well, you guys fight almost every day so it's not like it was a special event.'

'Yeah, sorry we woke you up last time…'

'No, _I_ should be sorry I've come between you and Janey. I mean I shouldn't be a reason for you guys to fight. _Ever_.'

Trent had meant that to be nonchalant, but his low, gruff voice made it sound anything but. Judging by Tom's sudden change of expression, his words had come off as more of a warning.

Tom had never been the one to give Trent the credit for being subtle in his words, but then again, he had always felt that he was hiding a secret, cynical personality. His suspicions weren't so far off.

'You're right, we should definitely consider all those other issues we're having. Like gummy bears.'

Trent raised an eyebrow.

'That was a joke,' Tom mumbled. 'Well, half a joke. It does kind of involve gummy bears.'

'Uh, what do you want exactly?'

'To find Jane. I kinda upset her and I need to talk to her.'

'And it involves gummy bears.'

'Yeah. Hard to swallow right?'

'Not in this family,' Trent replied.

'So do you have any idea where she might be?'

'Probably at Payday.'

'What day?

'You know, that warehouse store that just opened?'

'Oh, warehouse store…that doesn't sound good.'

'You'll find her there,' he said, meaning to close the door, but he suddenly stopped midway when he realized that Jane had not gone there alone.

'You know, I do need to get a new headlight, so I think I'll drive you there,' he said, yawning.

'Oh, really? That's…nice of you, I guess. Thanks.'

'Yeah. This way you'll see it's not so bad inside,' he muttered.

Tom chuckled awkwardly, but realized it was probably wrong to keep reminiscing that morning, so he stopped immediately and followed Trent to his car.

* * *

Trent was beginning to regret his decision of coming along. He had not planned on getting out of the house at all and he was certainly not in the mood to spend any quality time with his sister's boyfriend, much less walk him through what looked like a giant barnyard filled with dozens of angry people running around with carts.

But he knew he was doing the right thing, somehow. Because the right thing always demanded an effort, even if that effort entailed interacting with other people.

The right thing now was to look out for his sister and her best friend.

Of course, it was a bit more complex than that.

He knew Tom was attracted to Daria and that this was something he couldn't change. He also knew Tom wasn't bad-intentioned and wasn't going to harm Janey on purpose.

But he would harm her either way. And he would ruin Jane and Daria's friendship.

And that was something he could change.

'You're being really quiet Trent. Something on your mind?' Tom asked.

Trent sighed and looked out the window. Tom wasn't a bad guy. He was just the wrong guy. The guy who was not supposed to be here now. The guy who wasn't meant to like Daria. But he did, either way.

And how did he feel about that? Wasn't Tom the one that had started it all? The one that had made him realize he could still get jealous, despite his previous experiences?

And if he owed Tom something, it would be this. Making him jealous. Because he really did relish in feeling human from time to time.

But he had already decided he wouldn't accept Daria's friendship card. And he knew he couldn't turn around now and give up. Not when they were a couple of miles away and he had little gas left.

'Nope, nothing on my mind, never was,' he replied serenely.

* * *

Walking through that enormous warehouse felt like trying to find the centre of an interminable maze. It felt worse than trying to find the bathrooms at the Zon and that had taken him a couple of years to master so he wasn't saying it lightly. It really was incredibly confusing to wander through aisles and aisles of items that you never used and not know where you're going or what is going to come next.

And how were they going to find Jane and Daria in this oversized farm? Why had he thought he could this? He should have stayed in.

_No. You need to see them. And her. _

He shook his head. If there could be a way to see Daria, but not really see her… If he could just talk to her and not have to see her angry, annoyed, or disappointed. He was secretly terrified of rejection.

'Not only are we not going to find Jane and Daria, but I'm pretty sure we're never getting out of this store,' Tom was saying, looking around in agony.

'Yeah, and I don't see any headlights,' Trent muttered.

'I think we walked past those a long time ago,' Tom said, shaking his head. 'Or maybe they were just some shiny neon lights. This place is packed with that. And people carrying absurd amounts of ketchup. What's up with that?'

'Someone needs some quick fake blood?' Trent replied distractedly.

'Huh, good one,' Tom said. He was reminded of Daria, oddly enough.

A salesperson jumped in front of Trent, holding a tray full of cheese sticks.

'Good day, young man. Would you be interested in a cheese stick?'

'Um no, not really. Unless it's mozzarella. But I bet it's not. But, uh, have you seen a girl with jet black hair and a red jacket? There was also a short, auburn-haired girl with glasses following her.'

The young woman looked at him confused.

'Um, I see many people around here, I don't think I would notice that.'

'Well, they sometimes discuss world domination…' Trent began.

'Trent, what the heck are you doing? We need to keep looking,' Tom interrupted dragging him away.

'I was just having a reasonable conversation…'

'You can flirt later, we need to find Jane, it's really important.'

Trent shook him off irritated. He was certainly not flirting. He was asking valuable information. He really felt like leaving Tom there and just go look for them himself. He knew they could probably do this faster if they split up.

But, he wasn't that completely heartless to abandon Tom.

Or was he?

'Hey, maybe if you went that way, and I went this way, we'd find them faster.'

'Um, we're already doing a lousy job as it is. Don't think we'd do much better on our own.'

'You can't know till you try.'

'Trent, let me ask you this. Do you even know the number and make of your car?'

'Why is that, uh, relevant?'

'Well, you are buying a headlight, aren't you?'

'So?'

Tom sighed in frustration. 'You need to know that information.'

'Yeah. So?'

Tom groaned.

'Don't you see? You're not exactly the most, um, efficient guy on your own.'

'Hey, just cuz I don't give a crap about a headlight doesn't mean I don't give a crap about people. Objects have nothing to do with people,' Trent replied angrily.

'Yes, but it doesn't mean you can _find_ those people.'

'Well, you're not doing such a great job either. And I bet you already have you college application ready in the mailbox,' Trent retorted.

'Let's not get personal, Trent. I was just saying, you're not the most organized of guys. Didn't mean to insult you.'

'That's funny, cuz it seems like you did,' he answered half-heartedly. He felt sick. He knew Tom wasn't completely wrong about him. And he didn't know how to prove he wasn't completely right either. He knew he should just go back to not caring.

If only it were that easy to switch off.

'Wasn't my intention. You know that I think you're a good guy, Trent.'

'You don't have to say that.'

'It's true, though.'

'No, I mean, I don't care if you think I'm a good guy.'

Tom was taken aback by this sudden rebuke.

'You know, I think I'll go look for Jane myself, after all,' Tom said and turned his back on him.

'Damn,' Trent muttered under his breath. He hadn't meant for that to slip. But Tom was pushing it. And so was he. It's like he had been waiting for him to say something he could twist into an insult. He wasn't being himself, that he knew. Because the Trent he knew wouldn't even bother to come up with something. God, he missed his total and complete indifference.

He turned around and walked in the opposite direction.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the section with headlights. And that's when he heard Jane's voice. It was easy to track, even in a sea of unwelcome strangers.

He ran towards the voice. When he spotted her at last, she was talking to someone heatedly in front of the candy aisle. He realized to his chagrin that it was Tom.

He knew interrupting them would lead to more confusion and turmoil and he needed to let those two work out their problems on their own, but he couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed that Tom had got there first, thus proving his initial theory. Of course, they already seemed to be on the point of making up so there was no use even bothering to talk to them at the moment. He would probably get too angry and snap at someone, someone other than Tom.

What caught his attention, though, was the fact that Daria wasn't there. She must have left to give them some privacy. She wouldn't be very far, he gathered. Not in a store like this. No, she'd keep close to Janey. With some luck, he might find her close by.

Of course, he wasn't sure if that was what he really wanted. On the one hand, he wanted to make Daria forget about the stupid friendship thing, on the other hand, he didn't feel comfortable facing her directly about this. Much like Daria, he dreaded making his crush known, not only because he would probably be rejected and his feelings would be crushed, but also because he knew he didn't deserve Daria so making her believe only his feelings would make him worthy of her was kind of stupid and wrong.

He hated being torn. He hated having to make any decision. What scared him more was the fact that he had already made his decision. He felt a part of him had already independently decided for him and that made him feel powerless. At the same time, this sudden streak of strength and confidence made him feel much more at ease than he had ever been in his life. It was a paradox which had no other solution than confronting the source, some way or another.

And then the lights went off. Just like that.

And it wasn't one of those strange power-outs where the electricity comes back after two minutes. No, this was a full-blown electrical discharge. And it didn't seem to be going anywhere.

The store had seemed absurdly big in the light, but now it seemed like a bottomless pit in the dark.

He knew that he stood no chance of getting out of here until some form of lighting found its way to him.

He checked his pants. No lighter.

_Great. I just had to quit, _he told himself.

He started walking towards where he thought Jane and Tom were. But he was hit by a couple of carts and he bumped into five large boxes and almost fell on the floor. He managed to steady himself against a long, metal rail.

He didn't try to understand what was going on. He just kept walking.

It was getting very warm. The air conditioner being out, the place jammed with angry, panicked people, it was beginning to be a lot warmer and a lot more unpleasant.

He was starting to sweat and his skin itched. He wished he could take off his clothes and jump into a tub filled with ice.

No such luck, however.

Something smelt like burnt cheese. It made him slightly nauseous and hungry. And a lot warmer. The warmth was holding him in a tight, straitjacket.

He made a promise to himself, there and then, never to give her sister's boyfriend a ride again.

He was going to give up and sit down for a moment to rest, when he almost knocked someone down.

He quickly fumbled to help that person up.

'I'm so sorry, I…'

His hands landed on a pair of knees. They felt familiar somehow. Like he had held them before countless times. The shins felt worn out. Like the pages of an old, soft book.

His hands traveled up to the hem of what seemed to be a skirt. He stopped there because his throat went very dry and his breath got caught somewhere in the middle.

He could almost taste the skin. It was cold and smooth. It was so comforting to find something so cold and refreshing after suffering from terrible heat.

His shaky hands moved from her skirt and went up to her waist and then her arms. He raised her by her armpits.

'Trent.'

'Daria. Hey.'

It was probably the most awkward situation they could be in. But it some ways, it worked much better for him. He could feel her, but not see her, not see her judgemental frown and her tormented eyes.

Still, his hands felt like they'd been burnt. He did not want to go any further.

'Um….I…'

'Sorry, I almost knocked…'

'No, I was in the way…'

'No, I wanted to sit down…'

'No, I was with Jane and…'

'Yeah, Jane and Tom…'

'But then I wanted to let them talk…'

'…are talking now.'

Trent chuckled.

'Okay, you go first.'

'What are you doing here?'

'Drove Tom here. Plus I needed a new headlight.'

'Oh. Is everything okay?'

'Um, I guess.'

'Good.'

'Yeah.'

The darkness was becoming more and more oppressing. It was like an encroaching wall that brought them together only so they could be torn apart by the lack of air.

He could hear her shallow breaths. And he was pretty sure she could hear his.

His heart started beating quietly. It was the thrill again.

'Why would it not be?' he suddenly asked.

'You tell me.'

'Well…you know things have been weird.'

'Weirder than usual?'

'Yeah, between us.'

'Us. Well...'

'Yeah, you and me,' Trent repeated.

'It's just…it was an accident.'

'What was?' he asked quickly.

'The talk in the bathroom that night. You were high, you weren't being yourself, we both said some silly things, now that's done.'

'I wasn't that high. I knew what I said. And I am not taking it back. Well, not all of it.'

'It was still a random thing. And maybe there was some sincerity in it, but it doesn't matter because I already knew you were sorry about the project and you already knew I forgave you, so no harm done.'

'Then why bother writing me a note? If you thought it was just a random talk.'

He had caught Daria in her own logic now. Trent knew she couldn't avoid this question.

'You must have thought there was something, if you felt the need to write that,' he said, after a while, seeing as she had remained completely silent.

He could feel her body drawing away.

'Well…' she began. 'You…I made the mistake of assuming some things.'

'Assuming?'

'And I shouldn't have since you were not yourself and…' she trailed off.

'Daria, I'm always myself. That's why it's so hard to deal with me. People get annoyed with me very fast.'

'I didn't get annoyed.'

'I know.'

'I never really got mad at you.'

'I know…'

'I guess I oddly understand what you're saying sometimes,' she said. 'It must be because I envy you.'

'You…envy me?' he asked in shock. 'That's impossible.'

'Hey, you're…Trent. You're just different, you don't give a crap, you just live the way you want, you only do what you like. I guess… you live for what you think is important. And you could be dead to the world, you still wouldn't give a damn. So yeah. I wish I could do that.'

It was so ironic.

Because he didn't feel he _could_ care more than he did at the moment. He was so full with everything around him, he felt so many feelings right now, jumbled in his heart like senseless pieces of chaos, it just made him feel…happy.

She saw in him something he could and would never see.

He just wanted to hug her, hold her in his arms for a while. Even if it was wrong, he would have liked to feel her body next to him, just a little while.

He moved slowly towards her. She drew away. He couldn't know where she was going. The darkness was almost maddening. And the smell of cheese was resurfacing.

He felt a sharp pain in his rib. Someone had knocked into him quite roughly.

A dozen people were rushing past them. He almost felt like someone was stepping on his face. His feet were numb with sores.

Daria was pushed into him without any warnings. Angry shoppers didn't care about their feelings. They didn't care about them at all.

But he was grateful to them.

Daria was in his arms now. Almost.

His arms circled her shoulders until they reached her back.

Her small hands were resting on his chest for balance and her chest was digging into his with the force of a quiet storm.

He felt the blood thudding through her skin and merging with his own.

Had he just made a joke about fake blood an hour ago? How stupid of him.

This was much more than that.

He could hear her in his own body. Which was the strangest, most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him.

His chin reached the tip of her hair.

She hadn't drawn away yet, so he tentatively pressed his chin on the top of her head.

It was so strange, he was lucky there was no light.

'You shouldn't envy me,' he mumbled, almost inaudibly.

Daria instantly dropped her hands but she didn't move away. She hung her head low and breathed in deeply.

He did the same.

They stayed like that for a couple of endless minutes. She was frozen next to him and he was just barely holding her arms with the tips of his fingers.

He inhaled the sharp cold, digging through his nostrils, waking him up. His brain started working much faster.

His fingers moved over her arms surreptitiously. He didn't want her to run away.

'We should go look for Jane,' she suddenly said.

But she had said this so softly, so quietly, he had barely heard her. Daria herself wasn't sure if she had really spoken. It had been more like a whisper in a dream. The entire moment had a dream-like quality to it. Her voice was just a tiny fish in a deep, blue sea.

His fingers reached her hair. He slowly traced her long strands and pulled them back.

His head lowered towards the crook of her neck.

His nose almost touched her cheek.

He was going to kiss her and Daria panicked. She wanted to move, but she couldn't.

'T-rent…'

He paused.

'Trent...this is…we're…not…'

'Friends,' he finished for her and his mouth was close to hers because she could smell his words.

'Daria! Daria! Are you there, _amiga_?'

He groaned.

In a split second, she was gone. Well, she had run away towards the sound of Jane's voice.

He ran a desperate hand through his hair. It was wet. He covered his eyes from the dark. He thought he might see a light.

His heart was beating so fast he thought he could power up an entire town.

It had felt so different with her. Like he had never kissed a girl.

He sat down on the floor and hung his head between his knees. He needed to think things over. He needed to focus. He needed to get back on his feet.

He needed to…

'Trent? Trent, where are you?'

It was Tom. Tom's voice calling him.

He clenched his fists.

Jane and Tom were determined to ruin this for him.

'He must be around here somewhere…' he heard Tom say.

'You alright Daria? You don't sound okay,' he heard him say.

Oh, God. Where was this all leading to?

He silently got up and went to find them.

He hoped the lights would come back much, much later.

* * *

**Yep, bring on the comments, I know you want to :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everyone, another quick update from a sudden bout of terrible inspiration! I hope it's not just another storm in a teacup, meaning I hope it lasts. And more importantly, I hope it doesn't let my writing down. Though I think this chapter is quite nice if I say so myself, but you'll be the judges of that. But I like it, so yeah, feel free to be influenced :) No, really, though, please tell me what you think :)**

**Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews, you bring me a smile every day :)**

**P.S. Yes, this chapter takes place before _Legends of The Mall_, hence the title, but it can be taken as a simple title, without reference to the following episode. Also, Mr. Taylor is Brittany's dad, in case anyone had any doubts. It's in relation to the events of _Groped By An Angel_. **

**Enjoy!  
**

_10: Before The Legends_

This is how spring grows weary, when it turns into summer.

The summer days were longer and the sun followed them wherever they went, him and his copy of _Wasteland_. It had become his. He was not done reading it, but what did it matter? He was the only one who could see both its beauties in one; the beauty of the page turned so many times by childlike fingers and the beauty of the words sprung from a heart similar to his. Only the mind was infinitely superior. But the mind is first to go after death, whereas the heart only stops beating.

The heat of the darkened rooms of the Zon brought the people together. He went to have a piss in the bathroom and he was accosted by the image of a woman spread over the sink, her breasts, two soft fists melting, her legs dangling in the air, like flies caught on tape. Her hair was wet and stuck to the clear, calm surface of the mirror. Her eyes were beautiful.

When he went back on stage, he felt richer. Although no one could see it, he was feeling everything and everything hurt. It was too much to take in one gulp and it stung because he had never tried swallowing so much.

From the corner of his eye he could see Jane and Tom, holding each other's hands at the bar. His nose was nuzzled in her hair and she was smiling.

Trent was singing to them. He was their entertainer. He remembered the days in the tent. He had watched Jane from a crack in the fabric. She had walked up to the zipped entrance and waved at him, pointing at the tray of cookies she had left on the grass and then she had run down the pavement to the car parked outside where an older boy was waiting.

Then, years later, a friend of his had come to him and said he had seen Jane's paintings and they were really beautiful and inspiring. She had real talent. He had believed him and he had been happy. He had gone to see her show. She was in eighth grade. He had met her Arts teacher. She had told him Jane had given her hope for the generations to come.

'They won't be completely lost with someone like her leading the way,' she had said, smiling aloof.

He had felt so proud of Jane. The crowning queen of a generation. The cold statue of dying youth.

He wanted to thank her for saying these wonderful words about his little sister, the sister he had never known.

He had taken her out. Her legs had also dangled in the air, but it hadn't been very warm, even if it had happened in the Tank.

The morning after, he had gone up to Janey's room and he had kissed her forehead.

She'd asked him if mom was home. She said she would come.

And instead of lying to her, instead of telling her anything else, he had replied:

'She never said that.'

Everything hurt now.

* * *

Jane squeezed his hand lightly as he approached their table. Tom looked away and took a solitary sip from his beer.

'You guys were better than last week,' she let him know.

'Not possible,' he answered smiling.

'Don't be self-deprecating little brother, it does not become you,' she said winking.

'Many things don't.'

'Alright, enough with your cryptic replies. I want to know the truth; did you steal the pizza I brought home yesterday?'

'I will need some alcohol before I can answer that,' he said lightly, tapping his hand on the bar table.

'So, Tom, what did you think of the set?' Jane asked, raising her eyebrow.

'Pretty good for you guys. Couldn't get the lyrics though,' he said absently, stroking Jane's hand with his thumb.

Trent looked at him grimly.

'Thanks.'

'No need.'

'Are you two going to stay for the second set?'

'Well, maybe if…' Jane began.

'Actually, we were kind of hoping to call it a night. I want to take Jane to this old movie theater I discovered,' Tom interrupted her.

'I see. Well, we'll let Janey decide then,' Trent replied.

Jane looked from one to the other with a confused expression on her face.

'Let me decide? That's hard…I mean you know I can't resist a decaying mass of entertainment, but I think I'll go with the theater.'

Trent punched her lightly on the shoulder.

'Very funny, Janey.'

'I thought so. Do you mind?'

'Not at all. We've got plenty of Mystic Spiral enthusiasts right here,' he said dryly.

'Since when do you use the word 'enthusiasts' ?'

'Since I found it yesterday in the dictionary. I was looking for 'entity',' Trent explained, joking.

'Huh, that's actually believable,' Tom remarked, smiling to himself.

Trent got up quickly and coughed loudly.

'You'd better go then. See you later.'

He walked away from them as fast as he had come.

* * *

He was sitting on a large box in the backroom, packing his things slowly and looking at the small window above his head from time to time where two silent stars had appeared, when all of a sudden, there was a knock at the door.

Without any warning, Tom walked in.

'Hey, sorry to bother, it's just Jane wanted the house keys,' he said coldly and extended his hand.

'Really?' Trent asked, raising his eyebrow.

'Yeah, she told me she left hers at home.'

'She told you that?'

'Yes, Trent.'

'Why would she need the house keys? I'll be home when she comes.'

'It's just in case, you know.'

'In case what?'

'Can we stop playing twenty questions?'

'I'll be there,' he said firmly.

'I am sure, Jane sent me here for a reason and I wouldn't like to let her down, so please,' Tom asked, irritating seeping in his voice.

'Please what? If she wants the keys she can come take them herself.'

Tom noticed something glittering on a shelf next to Trent's box.

He stretched and grabbed the keys quickly.

'Are these the keys to the house?'

'I won't tell,' Trent said, looking away in boredom. 'And you can put those back. Otherwise I'll have to take that as stealing.'

'Oh come on. I just took some lousy keys from a lousy shelf, that's not going to get me in trouble. Now can we please stop wasting time here? Are these the keys?'

'Maybe, maybe not. You're just going to have to trust your instinct,' Trent replied, remembering the lines of a song he had recently written. He frowned. He'd better rewrite that soon.

'Nice try. But I'm going to wait here until you tell me. And something tells me you don't like me a whole lot right now, so if you tell me now, you'll get rid of me much quicker.'

'What makes you think I don't like you?'

'…let's not pretend our last conversation didn't happen.'

Trent nodded his head in resignation.

'Alright, no more pretend,' he said, raising his hands in defense.

Tom sighed and looked at his watch. Seeing as Trent wasn't moving, he sat down next to him.

'Okay. Just be a nice brother and tell me.'

'No.'

'Then you're not a nice brother.'

'I try.'

'You don't try enough. See, if you really tried, you would tell me and then Jane wouldn't have to wait anymore.'

'Let her wait this time. I'm sure wherever you're going doesn't have a schedule.'

'You're going to miss your second set.'

'I was packing. I told Jess to cover for me.'

'You're leaving?'

'Meeting with someone.'

'Who might that be?' Tom asked, curious.

'That might be no one.'

'So I'll tell Jane you're meeting with no one then?'

'Tell her...tell her I'm seeing Mr. Taylor.'

'Mr. Taylor?'

'That's the name of the guy.'

'Sounds familiar.'

'Well...he's hired me.'

'To play?'

'Nah. To strip,' Trent joked.

'Well, you could pull it off.'

'I hate to break it to you, but I like women.'

'I know, trust me, I know,' Tom assured him, smiling.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked up at the green light coming from a green-coloured light bulb. It smelt like smoke everywhere.

'You know, I spoke to my dentist the other day.'

Trent shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

'Mr. Williams. Does the name sound familiar?'

Trent's eyes snapped open. Images and words flew right through the window and crossed his vision for a split-second. Of course. Of course he knew. The house, the knees, the bathroom. The kind man who had taken them in.

He had told them he worked at Sunny Smiles.

'He asked me about you,' Tom said, chuckling. 'He said you and your 'nice' girlfriend were looking for me.'

Trent took out a cigarette. He lit it.

He couldn't help it.

'He said you and Daria left his house after you found out I wasn't home, but he would have liked for you to stay longer. Because you were 'such a nice couple.' Those were his words,' Tom said bitterly.

'Yes…I remember him,' Trent finally spoke, exhaling the smoke.

Tom waved his hand, wrinkling his nose. 'You do, don't you?'

'Yeah. He was kind.'

'I know. He's a good dentist too,' Tom said looking away.

'Figures'

'But…you and Daria,' he began, uncertain, 'you're not a couple.'

Trent stared at the trails of smoke crowning his head like a stormy cloud.

'Guess not.'

'You guess?'

'You can't know for sure. People change,' he said, taking another smoke.

'Not that much,' Tom insisted.

'They change a lot,' Trent said. 'Well..._afterwards_, they don't change.'

'Sorry?'

'You think I'm the same. You think you're the same. But we're different, every moment,' he said, looking around for _Wasteland_. He had left it at home this time.

'What do you…'

'And then we come back to who we were,' he continued undeterred. 'And then, then we change again…and then we go back to our last change. And we're always the changes we made before another change. That's why it seems…it's all the same.'

Tom stared at him in surprise. He was at a loss for words. His mind felt somewhere far. He couldn't bring himself to think.

He had never expected to hear this from Jane's sister while sitting next to him in a backroom of the Zon.

And it somehow made sense.

'That was…really inspired Trent.'

'Was it?'

'I think you might even be right,' Tom said, looking in front of him blindly.

'Do you think so?' Trent asked quietly, taking another smoke.

'It sounds right.'

The minutes passed in silence. They suddenly felt comfortable with each other.

Tom rested his head against the shelf.

'So…what did you tell the dentist?'

'I laughed in his face,' Tom replied, chuckling. 'I mean, really now, can you imagine?'

'Yeah…funny as hell.'

'You would never work together.'

'How would you…'

'Because no one really works with Daria,' Tom said quickly.

'Is that so?'

'She doesn't need…anyone.'

Trent had to admit that was true. He took another smoke and coughed.

'You sound sad about that,' Trent remarked.

'I'm not. Not at all. I'm just…'

'What?'

Tom couldn't avoid his heavy stare, as much as he tried. He felt it was pointless to hide now.

Shit, Trent realized.

It was obvious. Tom was in love.

'Those are the house keys. So you can go now,' Trent said all of a sudden.

Tom blinked surprised. He felt he was waking from a long sleep.

'Oh…right.'

He got up and put the keys in his pocket. He felt the weight there. Then he sank his hands in the pockets of his jacket awkwardly.

He started walking towards the door.

'Tom?'

'Yes?'

'I expect you to break up with Jane soon.'

'Trent, I really care about…'

'I'm giving you two weeks,' Trent said. 'I don't want her to hear it from me or anyone else.'

The stars blinked and disappeared.


	11. Chapter 11

**Yep, I've just updated, shock!**

**Well, this might be my longest chapter yet, but it might also be one of those chapters where 2/3 of it is junk. I so hope not. Because I cracked my knuckles a little bit, I'll admit. And it's not exactly early either. Typical of me. **

**Despite my unhealthy habits, I want to thank all my wonderful reviews and all my faithful readers, you give me hope and inspiration and also save me a lot of guilt trips :) **

**I love it that we get so excited over two awesome fictional characters (Daria and Trent ftw!) and I hope that excitement never fades.**

**Anyhow, enjoy the chapter and don't hesitate to tell me what you think, be it good or bad.**

**P.S. Naturally, this is a rewrite of the chapter so many things are changed. If there are any inconsistencies, I apologize. Please let me know either way.  
**

* * *

_11: Legends of the Mall_

When the car stopped in front of the Morgendorffer house, he realized he had no feelings left inside of him.

Janey had called him earlier, telling him that Daria's dad needed a ride urgently so he could pick up Daria's sister from the Mall.

He had been wary of this all week. But if Jane had called him that meant Daria had agreed to it, which meant that maybe she wasn't so terrified to see him again.

He thought he'd feel really nervous or awkward or just plain bad, driving up to her house, but when the wheels screeched and stopped in front of the mailbox, he realized he was alright. His heart was barely beating. He was his normal self. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Only a heightened sense of awareness.

Maybe everything had been his own imagination.

Jane was the first to run out of the house and greet him.

'Why didn't you call Tom? You know baby's gotta rest,' he said, pointing at the shabby vehicle.

'Daria wouldn't let me,' Jane said, making a face. 'You know how she is around him.'

Trent blinked several times.

'Yeah, I guess. Then I'll try to get you there.'

He ignored the small shot of joy.

Then Daria and her dad finally came out. Jake Morgendorffer was wearing one of his trademark grimaces. He seemed deeply concerned. His eyes went over his car with the reluctance of someone getting a painful shot. Trent knew he didn't want to get in the car, but he also knew the man had no other choice. Once again he felt the overwhelming need to help him, because he pitied him. He pitied the half-man.

'You say this thing's safe?' Jake asked Jane.

'It's an adventure on wheels,' she replied, her voice dripped in sarcasm.

'Adventure on wheels, eh? Adventures can be good. Um you're gonna steer with both hands when we're actually moving, right?' he asked, pointing at the arm he had slouched over the wheel.

Trent smiled.

'Unless I think of some lyrics on the road and have to write'em down. You understand.'

Jake nodded his head, grinning awkwardly.

'Oh sure!' He turned quietly towards Daria and muttered a hollow 'Help me.'

Daria stared into Trent's eyes for a split second. She seemed impassive.

She coughed and made a noncommittal gesture.

'Maybe these two shouldn't be left alone,' she mumbled reluctantly.

'I was starting to feel the old wanderlust anyway,' Jane agreed.

She and Jane crawled in the back seat pushing away a couple of empty packages.

Trent could see her forehead in the mirror and if he rose a little, he could see her eyes too. Her hair was as same as usual, brown, auburn, reddish, lackluster, worn out and tangled.

He looked at the hand crossed over the wheel. He clenched his fist as if he had grabbed a handful of hair.

But he still felt nothing. There was nothing stirring him. He had driven himself into a blank state.

'But how are we going to fit four more people in the car?' Jake asked suddenly.

'It's been done before and this time, there's no drum kit,' Jane explained.

Trent could see the small beads forming on Daria's forehead. They were small and pearl-white, rising right above her black eyebrows. Or maybe it was just the sun, reflecting on her skin. He couldn't tell. He saw Janey's half-washed mouth in the mirror. It was red and slightly pink. There were so many words forming on her lips.

'What's that funny smell?' Jake asked, sniffing.

Trent remembered having spilt a carton of milk on Jake's seat.

He also remembered the previous night. He went out to have a beer with the guys. He made out with an unknown girl in his car. She had wanted to give him head, but he had almost pushed her out. She had hit her head against the window. She had almost started crying. He had held her for a while. She had told him her name, but he'd forgotten it. He had driven her home afterwards and she told him he was a good guy. Now he felt terrible about the whole thing, but in hindsight, he should have known he wouldn't last long until he screwed up again.

Sure, there were feelings involved. Sure, he kind of liked her. Maybe even really liked her.

But there was too much against him. Tom was one thing, then there was his lack of everything, then this nasty habit he had of sleeping around. Even if this had stopped recently, it was bound to start again.

He realized Jake was waiting for an answer. He sighed.

'It wasn't so funny when it happened, but it's a really great story,' he mumbled.

* * *

'And that's why you use a bottle instead of those little milk cartons, especially when you're driving,' he was explaining to Jake as they drove across the green belt of the suburbs.

The car suddenly sputtered and stopped.

'Uh oh.'

'What? What? What happened?' Jake asked anxiously.

'Janey?'

'Seven, eight, nine, ten,' she replied monotonously.

Trent pounded his fist over the dashboard and the engine restarted. He threw Daria a look. She was staring at Jane.

'Nice counting,' she remarked.

'I can go all the way up to twenty.'

'Whew. Thought we were going to be stranded there for a minute,' Jake said, laughing awkwardly.

'No way. We don't want to be caught out here by these woods,' Trent mumbled, recalling an old urban myth he had heard in high school. 'Especially at night.'

'Really? Why not?'

'Roving bands of embittered squirrels?' Daria commented.

Trent smirked. God, he really liked her sense of humour.

He contemplated whether he should go on with the story or not. Was it worth telling them something so far-fetched? Well, he wasn't getting anywhere with Daria, Jake was on tenterhooks and he was getting very bored.

'Nah it's because of… Metalmouth.'

He coughed.

'What?' Daria asked.

'Metalmouth,' Jane repeated in a sing-song voice.

'Oh.'

'Metalmouth started out as a metal shop teacher,' he continued.

And thus his story began.

* * *

'And the moral of this story is, don't open car doors with your molars.'

Trent coughed loudly and laughed in his mouth.

He was glad she could still see past the absurdness of it all and make fun of it. And she always had these perfect lines prepared for the right moment and when they hit him, they hit him hard. Like he could have laughed with her all night. It was one of those things that made her so great. That and the amazing timing.

'I don't get it. Why was the same song always on the radio? And, why didn't he get sports and weather?' Jane asked, slightly annoyed.

'Hey, the truth isn't rolled up in a neat little package you can carry in your wallet,' he replied.

'Nor should it ever be washed and be re-used,' Daria commented quietly.

Trent stared at her in the mirror. Her eyes were tracing patterns on the windows, but he could tell that she wanted to say more. He waited.

'Daria, you don't think Quinn's lost in those woods, do you?' Jake asked worriedly.

'Well…there's nothing to buy there…' Trent replied instead, smiling to himself.

Daria stole a glance at him, but she wasn't quick enough. He saw. She was smiling, sort of. Well, whatever could be called a 'Daria smile', it was there.

'Huh, you're right, Trent,' Jake said. 'Maybe we should all try to think like Quinn.'

'Okay, who wants their frontal lobes removed first?' she asked.

Trent felt like sleeping by her side in the car again.

They kept driving through the woods until, all of a sudden, but not entirely unexpected, his car buckled and rolled to a firm stop, as steam started coming out of its hood.

Everyone got out of the car.

'Just a little steam,' Trent remarked. 'We'll let it cool off for an hour.'

'An hour! Jane-o, can't you do that counting thing again?' Jake asked hopefully.

'It doesn't work if the car's on fire,' she replied sardonically.

'On fire? Better make it two hours then,' Trent reiterated.

'Dammit, let me take a look at it!' Jake exclaimed.

'Umm, dad…' Daria began warningly.

Jake walked up the hood but instantly jumped away when his fingers touched the metal.

'Hot! Hot! Blisters, dammit!'

'You try to raise them to think,' Daria muttered, shaking her head.

'Well, no point in crying over spilt milk,' Jane said, patting Jake on the back.

'No pun intended Trent,' she added, alluding to the spilt milk in the car.

'None taken. Um, I guess we should wait, is all,' he explained.

'But I can't wait for two hours! Quinn might be out there alone, God knows where. She might need her father!'

'She's with the fashion drones. No one would want to mess with that posse,' Daria commented.

Trent smiled in her direction. She turned her head.

'Oh my God, Daria, you're right! They're all young, beautiful and underage, good God!'

Jane and Daria shared a look. They knew what was coming. Another panic attack from good ol' Jake.

'You shouldn't sweat it, those neighbourhoods aren't so bad,' Trent said, trying to appease him. 'I never got into any trouble there.'

Jake stared at him as if what he'd said was irrelevant. Trent sighed. Coming from him, maybe it was.

'I need to go find them!'

'Through the woods?'

'It's what Helen – I mean it's what a father must do for his daughter! Right Daria?'

'But what about me, your other daughter?'

'Well, you'll stay here with Jane. Trent and I are going to…'

'Um, I should watch over the car. Don't wanna leave Janey next to an exploding hazard,' Trent argued.

'But Trent! Who will go with me through the wilderness?' Jake asked, feeling dejected.

'There's hardly any more wilderness left in this area,' Jane remarked, looking around. 'I know it well. I do my runs here. I'll walk with you Mr. Morgendorffer. For old times' sake.'

'Oh, Jane-o! Will you really? But um, that's too dangerous, I couldn't really…'

Daria nudged Jane.

'Are you sure about this, Lonely Ranger?' she asked. 'Maybe I should go with him. You and Trent can wait here.'

'That's really selfless of you, Morgendorffer. No offense though, but you kinda suck at orientation,' Jane said, patting her shoulder lightly. 'I'm afraid you and your dad would get lost together and have to learn to coexist with those embittered squirrels.'

'Eh, we'd survive.'

'Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of,' Jane added, smirking. 'Don't worry, we'll be fine. Jake's kind of like my brother Wind. And I always walked him to the kitchen.'

'Yeah and look how he turned out,' Daria commented.

Jane stuck out her tongue.

'So, Mr. M, are you ready to go on the adventure of your life?'

'Jane, are you sure? You I don't want you to…'

'Come on, let's not waste any more time,' Jane said, dragging him lightly by the arm. 'Quinn is probably putting out as we speak.'

'What?'

'Janey, be careful,' Trent told her, waving his arm.

'Yeah, you too! You'd better not lose Daria!' she yelled. She started running.

'Jane! Wait up!' Jake cried.

'Can't! I have to run so I can jog my memory!' Jane yelled back.

'Bye Daria!' Jake yelled one last time.

Then they were out of sight as darkness swallowed them.

Daria hugged herself and looked around briefly. Her surroundings were anything but comforting, but that was not the reason why she was suddenly so nervous. She hadn't been so selfless when she had offered to go instead of Jane. The prospect of spending time alone with Trent was slightly terrifying.

'So…' Trent began, scratching his head.

'Yeah…'

'Alone again,' Trent remarked. He had meant it to sound nonchalant, but he had just come off as sleazy. He groaned internally and took out a cigarette.

Daria eyed him carefully.

'Actually…I quit,' he mumbled.

Daria raised an eyebrow. He threw it away.

'We should get inside,' Trent said, opening the door.

'I'm not taking that chance,' Daria replied, staring at the hood, but Trent felt she meant something else by it too.

'I don't blame you,' he said, shutting the door loudly.

He went over to the back of the car and hopped on the trunk. He watched Daria from the corner of his eye. She walked around aimlessly for a bit until she finally joined him.

He patted the seat next to him with his hand.

She sighed and tried getting up on the trunk.

'Need some help?'

'I can manage.'

Even so, he grabbed her waist slightly so he could pull her up. She shied away.

'I don't think I have any food. Could have gone for some soda now,' he commented.

'Yeah, I could have gone for the comfort and solitude of my own room,' she bit back.

'I don't think I'm such bad company,' he remarked.

She sighed.

'You're not. You're…nice. Sorry, I just don't feel very comfortable right now. Don't like sitting on cars.'

Trent looked down. His feet almost touched the ground. Hers were dangling. He smiled. She looked like a little kid.

'Do you wanna talk about it?' he asked.

'Talk about what?'

'You know. What happened at Pay Day.'

She paused. He could see the frown forming on her face.

'No…nothing happened anyway.'

'Alright.'

'Mhm.'

' But we could…you know…' he began again.

'It's ok. It was nothing,' she repeated. 'No use talking about nothing.'

He coughed. 'Yeah. I…totally agree. Except…I said some things.'

'I don't recall. I think we were both confused.'

'I wasn't _that_ confused. And _I_ recall.'

'I doubt it.'

'Why are you…?' he began, but he stopped suddenly. There was no point arguing with her now. She was not going to admit anything while she was still feeling uncomfortable.

He started shivering from the cold.

Daria started toying with the hems of her skirt. It distracted him.

He hated this part. This part where everything fell _apart_. Where pride was more important than feelings and feelings were going to silence them forever; the fear of being rejected, the fear of knowing, the fear of doubting.

He desperately wanted to think of something else. He wanted a change of pace.

He couldn't believe that merely twenty minutes ago he had been telling them about Metalmouth. Now everything seemed so radically changed. It was as if it had never happened.

Then he got an idea.

'So…I told you a story. Why don't you tell me one too?'

'Excuse me?'

'Well, it's only fair. I told you about Metalmouth. That was pretty embarrassing. You should…tell me one too.'

Daria was a story-teller. He knew that. She wrote stories. Sure, she almost never read them in public, but he knew that if he could somehow make her talk about her stories, she'd feel more at ease.

And…he was curious. Jane was always allowed to read her stories. He had never had that privilege.

'Tell you a story? Um, I don't know any,' she countered.

'Come on, don't you wanna write for a living?' he asked.

'How'd you know that?'

'Hard to miss it when your friend's my sister,' he joked.

'Yeah, I guess so.'

'So, am I gonna get to hear one of your stories?'

'Right now? Out here?'

'Seems as good a time as any. I mean…we'd pass the time and…I know we wouldn't have another chance to…you know…' he said, stammering slightly.

'You're weird, Trent, you know that?'

He smiled.

'I've been called worse.'

'You really wanna hear one of my stories?'

'Hey, I'm awake aren't I?'

She laughed briefly.

Something started moving above his stomach. Too much fast food, he thought. But that was probably not it.

'I have to warn you, they're particularly…raw. And strange.'

'Stranger than my lyrics?' he countered.

'Okay, you win there, but trust me…'

'Just tell me. I won't judge. I mean…I am in no position to do that. You know that.'

'Yeah, I know,' she mumbled. And it somehow felt comforting not to be judged for a change.

'I'm waiting.'

'Well, what are you up for? Drama, crime, thriller, psychological, wannabe existentialism?' she asked.

'All of them.'

'Oh. Then you need Melody Powers.'

'Who…?'

* * *

'So then Melody hurls the knife into the air and says 'if it follows me then I'll know' and she lets him go and falls to the ground, waiting. The knife lands right between her arm and her body. She grabs it quickly and then Antonio…'

'Wait, Antonio was the painter slash drug dealer, right? Cuz you mentioned a Tony in there…'

'That's his sexually confused son. He was named after his dad,' she corrected him.

'Right, right, go on,' Trent said.

They had by now gotten more comfortable as her story progressed.

He was sitting slightly on his back, his arms under his head and she was now standing on her elbow.

He found himself completely immersed in her imaginary world with a force he hadn't believed was possible. He really wanted to know the end of her story. And he had to admit it wasn't only the fact that the story was gripping, but also because Daria's voice was very soothing.

'So then Antonio starts yelling at her, blaming her for everything she'd done, for scaring him like that, for acting so insane and she just raises herself and looks him deeply in the eye and says 'I was waiting for His punishment' and points upwards. He rolls his eyes and curses nervously. 'And did you get it?' She replies in the negative. After a pause, she says 'means my work here is not done.' Then she grabs the knife and sticks it in his arm, pinning him to the ground. He starts yelling in agony as blood gushes out, but she's already ravaging his private office, looking for the keys…'

'Wait. She gives him up like that? After everything…she's got no feelings?'

'Doing the right thing is more important.'

'Yeah, but…he saved her life. And he helped her find a job…'

'Yes, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do, even if it hurts the hell out of you and everyone you care about.'

He nodded carefully. He realized he was doing the same thing. By giving Tom that ultimatum, he was going to hurt people he loved. But he was doing the right thing, wasn't he?

'I see what you mean,' he said.

He had gotten closer to her somehow, she couldn't tell how he'd done it.

'Um...' she began, looking into the dark pools which were his eyes. He had turned towards her and was now standing on his elbow as well.

'You had got to the part where Melody looks for the keys…' he reminded her, his voice very quiet and low.

'Yeah.'

'Did she find them?' he asked eagerly.

'Yes. They were hidden behind his son's graduation diploma. She rushed as fast as she could. But when she arrived at the docks it was too late. She saw two bodies sinking in the water. Another one on the shore. Her fellow agent had already been killed, along with the Ambassador and Lucy.'

'Wow…that's gotta be a blow…'

'Yeah, she had been too late. She had done the right thing, but it hadn't been enough. She had sacrificed everything she cared about. But it had not been enough. Everyone was gone, literally. She sat down by the docks and propped her legs under her chin. She thought of what Antonio had said earlier: 'Either way, we're all rushing backwards.' She felt she was doing just that. Rushing backwards. She had given everything for the right thing, but the right thing had slipped away.'

A pregnant silence fell between them as both of them mulled over what had been said.

Daria would have had more to say, but she felt it was enough.

Trent was in deep thought.

What if that was happening to him right now? What if he was rushing backwards? What if the right thing was going to slip away from him?

Daria looked at him concerned.

'Are you alright?'

'Yeah…I just hope I…' he began, his eyes glazing over the dark street.

'Hope what?'

'Nothing. That was a great story, Daria.'

'No, it wasn't. It was corny and clichéd.'

'Shut up. I haven't heard a story like that in a while.'

'But you have heard one similar before.'

'_Daria_. Relax. I liked it. A lot.'

'Um…thanks,' she mumbled, feeling like a moron.

'Melody is pretty badass.'

'Yeah, I was going for that.'

'But…she's not too Lara Croft,' he added thoughtfully.

'That's comforting to know.'

'You're a good story-teller. Or maybe it's your voice. It's…soothing.'

'My voice?' she scoffed. 'Trust me, I have over twenty seventy year old witnesses who would beg to differ.'

'Huh?'

'I used to read for seniors. They could barely stand me.'

'Idiots…'

'Well, they were old. I feel like insulting them would be beneath me.'

He smiled. 'Maybe you're right.'

They stood in silence for several moments.

'I wonder how Jane and dad are doing,' Daria muttered. 'It's…been a while.'

'How long?'

She checked her watch.

'Wow, almost an hour gone.'

'Yeah…told you we'd pass the time,' he said sleepily.

'Do you think they've found Quinn?'

'I don't know…I…can't stop thinking about what you said. About Melody. And the right thing. About the right thing slipping away.'

'Forget it. Adolescent bullshit,' she said chuckling.

'Nope. It's true. I don't want that to happen.'

'It won't. Not unless you have to deal with Russian espionage.'

'Come on. You know you meant that as a general truth.'

'Not really. Don't bother reading too much into it,' she muttered.

'Why not?'

She remained silent.

'I'm sorry…'

'About?' she asked.

'I'm sorry about trying to…kiss you…at Pay Day,' he began slowly.

She flushed.

'I really am sorry…'

She was going to get down, but Trent placed his hand over hers. She almost jumped out of her skin.

'I mean…not sorry like regret, but sorry like I'm sorry I almost forced it on you. That was stupid…I mean you probably didn't want to, you know, kiss me back. It was bad timing.'

Her cheeks were now redder than Jane's jacket.

'I…'

'I know I…scared you.'

'You didn't,' she said quickly.

'But I was just trying to get to know you better.'

She frowned in confusion.

'Well… that and other things,' he admitted.

'Why are you doing this?'

'What do you mean?'

'I told you we'd be friends. Why are you messing with this friendship?'

'I don't want…'

'You don't like me that way. You can't.'

'But…'

'And you shouldn't try to kiss me.'

'Why? Would you…kiss me back?'

She buried her face in her hands.

'God, what a night,' she muttered.

'I know this is…hard for you, but it's hard for me too,' he said carefully.

'How is it hard for you? I mean you know about that crush I used to have on you. I'm the one on the spot.'

'Yeah, but that doesn't even matter anymore. Because now I do like you _that_ way,' he confessed.

'Oh…'

'I wouldn't have tried kissing you…otherwise.'

God, it felt good to say that out loud.

'After all this time, you're suddenly interested?' she asked amazed.

'Yeah,' he admitted sincerely. 'I guess something in my head clicked.'

She got down. 'And what triggered this…click exactly?'

'Seeing you with Tom.'

Daria's eyes widened.

'Excuse me?'

'At the parade. I saw you with him. And something snapped, I guess.'

'So is that it? You saw me with another guy.'

He got down too. He felt something was wrong. She was getting angry. Her shields were up again.

'That's what made you like me. The fact that I was hanging out with someone else. Great. I feel so special.'

'Daria, I didn't mean it like…'

'It's an ego thing, I get it. God, Tom really did screw everything up, didn't he?'

'It's got nothing to do…'

'You just said you started liking me cuz of him.'

'That was at first, but then I realized…'

'Cuz you'd been blind before him. You needed another guy to get you interested in me,' she said bitterly.

'Don't be like this, Daria.'

'I'm not, I just…' she said, closing her eyes. 'I don't want this right now. I'm sorry. You're great. Jane's great. Even stupid Tom is great. You're all great. But I don't want this in my life right now.'

'You're pushing me away.'

'No. I'm pushing myself away,' she said.

Trent groaned.

'It's never simple with you.'

'Well, you can find simple somewhere else,' she bit back.

Suddenly they heard a noise behind them. It sounded like shouts. There was some laughing too.

A car was approaching. A red convertible.

There were four guys and three girls sitting in their laps and they were singing an idiotic beer song.

The loud howling and singing scared her. She approached Trent warily.

He noticed and slipped her hand into his almost unnoticed.

As soon as their skins touched, he felt it. He had thought it was gone. It hadn't sprung up until now.

But there it was. That shooting thrill again. That feeling of elevation.

He was going to hold onto her for as long as he could.

'Hey losers! Watch where you're going faggots!' they yelled and threw some plastic cups their way.

Trent shielded her slightly. She hid her head in his T-shirt for a brief moment.

After they were gone, she stepped away and started walking towards the car door.

'I'm getting in, risk or no risk,' she announced.

Trent sighed and resumed his place on the trunk. He felt dizzy. Very, very dizzy.

It wasn't long though until a car came for them. It was Helen. Jake, Quinn, Jane and the Fashion Club were already inside.

'Come on, Daria, Trent, the rescue is here,' Helen said condescendingly, throwing Jake a look.

'Damn it, Helen! I could have handled it you know. I found Quinn and the girls, didn't I?'

'Yes, honey, I know,' she said fondly. 'You did find the girls, but now I'm taking them home. We're a team, remember? We work as one.'

'What about my car?' Trent asked, although he couldn't care less.

'We'll have it towed away in the morning. I don't think anyone will steal it,' Helen explained.

'Yeah, I agree,' Trent said, shrugging his shoulders.

There wasn't much space left in the car, so Trent and Daria had to squish in the back. Daria was practically sitting on him, though you couldn't tell from the dark.

'We found Quinn at the house of Bad Grades,' Jane told Daria with a knowing look in her eye. 'You know, that house that everyone talks about…'

'So not encouraging it,' Daria muttered.

'Yes, Jane was just telling us about it, weren't you Jane?' Helen asked animatedly.

'Like, if we have to ride with your parents and their weird friends we should at least have the comfort of silence, Quinn,' Sandi drawled annoyed.

'Yes, I was just going to tell you about the famous legend of the girl in the bomb shelter,' Jane continued undeterred.

'Uuu, sounds like fun,' Helen said.

'Bomb shelter? Eww,' Jake replied.

'For once, I agree with your father,' Sandi whispered angrily into Quinn's ear.

'Sandi, my hands are tied right now!' Quinn complained.

'Psst, Quinn who is that boy with your cousin?' Stacy asked quietly.

'Oh, God, that's Jane's brother. Total loser,' Quinn whispered.

'He's…hhhoooot,' Tiffany drawled.

'Shush Tiffany! He might hear you!' Sandi hissed.

Meanwhile, Trent was trying his best to shut his ears off. Everyone was talking and there was so much noise and the one person he desperately wanted to hear was being stubbornly silent.

But he couldn't blame her.

What could they say to each other right now?

He had messed it up. He kicked himself internally. He shouldn't have mentioned Tom. He knew he should have said something else, something she had needed to hear.

She needed to hear he'd liked her for some time, but he had only discovered it recently. She needed her crush to be validated.

He wasn't even sure which version was real anymore; had he liked her for some time or had he started recently?

Whenever it had started, he knew at least _why_ he liked her. He knew _what_ he liked about her. And he could have told her and he hadn't.

He had forgotten Daria _was_ a girl, despite everything.

But he couldn't tell her everything now. They were surrounded by family and strangers.

She was looking out the window with an unreadable expression on her face.

Her hair was tickling him. He buried his face in it and sighed.

She let him. She didn't have the strength to push him away and she didn't really want to. She was upset with him, but not enough to forget about his feelings, or hers.

She wondered how she'd get through this night.

Incidentally, Trent was wondering the same thing.

'So, this happened back when America was all upbeat, clean-cut, and expecting to be blown up any minute…' Jane began the story.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys! Glad to be back with the story and I hope you are too :) Thanks a million for the wonderful reviews, I am in love with every one of them. Okay, that came out wrong. I still love them. But you know, in a platonic way. Anyways, I wanna thank _Shiva the Sarcastic, Melyssa Mayhem, RoziCanuti, Marble Meadow, Sun-chan1, SSJO4 Mewtwo, nevillesdashizz_ and everyone else for their awesome input and _Caraline Fisher_ I am totally flattered, but I hope you weren't doing both at the same time :) **

**Now unto the chapter! Hope you'll like it.**

_12: Groped by an Angel_

'Aaaand right here is my six-foot replica of the Times Square, made entirely from platinum and rubies. The rubies I added myself after I got married to my gorgeous second wife, as a gift for making such a great decision. By the way, did you get a good look at her, sport? Barely twenty-seven I tell you and she looks no older than sixteen! You can't even go out with her without getting called a predator. I guess the place you work at would ask her for her ID, am I right?' Mr. Thompson, asked nudging him playfully in the ribs.

Trent had just been given the grand tour of the Thompson mansion. It didn't matter that he was just going to sing downstairs for one night and never even have to meet his daughter, his son, or his wife; the man still thought it would comfort his vanity to show the deadbeat, unemployed guitarist how a 'real man' lived.

He had met the new Mrs. Thompson just earlier and he had mistaken her for Brittany. Her husband had laughed pleased and had confessed that even he mixed them up sometimes which made Trent shudder internally. After that, Mrs. Thompson, or Amber, had insisted on showing him her old commercial routine for some kind of beer he had never heard of.

It had been kind of like an acid trip. To watch a beautiful, blonde woman dance in front of him while her husband encouraged her, all the while surrounded by tacky ceramic, standing in a hallway panelled with all sorts of trophies and animal heads. Not even his worst songs had ever come this close to nonsense. But in the back of his mind, he knew he was watching something ordinary, something he had seen before. There was nothing new here. Maybe that soft expression on Amber's face, the one she kept at the corner of her mouth whenever her husband wasn't watching was new. The one he thought was strictly reserved for him.

Before she parted ways with them, she had briefly touched his arm and blinked in a very noticeable way, or had that been a wink? He wasn't sure. But she might have liked him.

'The Zon doesn't have such strict policies with minors...unfortunately,' Trent commented, staring at the man's heavy silver Rolex tied around his firm hand.

'Well I bet you have a girl yourself, don't you sport?' he asked jovially.

Trent stepped back a little and visited all the faces he knew, stubbornly refusing to think of Daria.

But then he thought how funny it would be to watch her attack this guy verbally. He almost smiled.

Damn.

'Cuz you know,' Mr. Thompson continued, 'I have this fellow working in cosmetics and he can get me some top quality merchandise if you're inter-'

'We should really discuss the party... the band has to set up the equipment,' Trent interrupted him.

'Oh, of course, almost forgot about that! I like that your head is in the game, Tony.'

'It's Trent...'

'Now, I want you to start off by telling the crowd how much I love my sugar lump and how proud I am she's done such a terrific job.'

'C minus right?' Trent asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Hmmm, you might have a point there, I'll ask her again,' he said, running towards the corridor quickly.

'Oh, sweet tush!'

'Yes, honey?'

'Not you, Amber, my other sweet tush!'

'She's not home from school yet!' Amber replied.

'Aww, Jesus, she's at school again? Say, was it C plus or C minus?'

'It might have been just a C sweet pie!'

'Well, I gotta know for sure, I'm having a crystal trophy made out and I have to know which grade to write on it!' he shouted.

'How about you just write Brittany on it?' Amber suggested.

'Then she'll forget what she got it for!' Mr. Thompson shouted back.

Trent sighed and sat down on the sofa in his office. He thanked his unlucky stars that he would never be an ambitious, well-to-do, successful business man.

* * *

'Do you want me to get you guys a pizza?' Amber asked sweetly as she peered inside the living room.

Max and Nick were setting up the sound board and bickering all the way through so they couldn't be bothered. Jess was in the kitchen, helping with the beer kegs.

'Uh, sure, Mrs. Thompson, we'd appreciate it,' Trent said, getting up from the floor where he was checking the cables.

'Call me Amber, I feel so old when you call me Mrs. Thompson,' she said, laughing.

Trent shrugged his shoulders and walked past her.

'Where are you going?'

'To get Jess.'

'Oh, I think he's in the kitchen. Would you like to me to walk you there?'

'No thanks, I think I can handle it,' he said sheepishly.

'I insist!' she squeaked.

He sighed and allowed her to walk in front. Her hourglass figure shook with every step she took. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders like a golden river. Her eyes, as she looked back at him, were the colour of burning waters and her skin was shining like ivory. Or at least that is how the sonnets would put it.

She was in other words, spectacular.

She would have been much more if he could have actually seen her. But as it was, he barely registered the sparkling beauty in front of him. She was faded and foreign, like a rare plant whose name he didn't know and which didn't rouse anything in him.

When they were about to enter the kitchen, she pressed herself lightly against him and winked.

He didn't respond. She took that as shyness.

She poured him a cold beer and when she handed it to him, her fingers traced over his.

* * *

Around nine o'clock, the house was already half-full.

When he finally saw Brittany, he realized he had seen her before somewhere. Jane had worked with her on a project. He wrinkled his nose. He remembered not liking her.

The moment she opened her mouth, he remembered why. Her squeaks were barely intelligible. He did make out the words 'start at half past nine'. So he knew at least when to start playing.

But anything else that came out of her mouth was pure gibberish to him, especially since he wasn't exactly awake right now. He might have smoked some pot earlier, although he wouldn't admit that. He had just wanted to calm down Nick and Max, but he had ended up more stressed than before.

He kept looking around the room nervously. That had nothing to do with his blurry state. Jane had told him she and Daria would come and hear him play.

When he'd first heard this, he'd thought there was no way she could convince Daria to come. He was pretty sure Daria would back out at the last moment and choose to stay home. Of course, if Daria didn't come, his sister was probably going to bring Tom with her which would be twice as embarrassing and unpleasant.

He imagined Daria sitting lazily on her bed, flipping through TV channels, or through the pages of a book, looking out the window with rejection clearly written across her face. She was brave. He hadn't even come close to rejecting himself, not to mention the whole world. He would never be able to be so discontent. And that is why he admired her. There was a certain sacrifice in choosing to live in dissonant reality and never allowing oneself to dream or hope. Daria was, by all definitions, a martyr. A selfish martyr, but a martyr nonetheless.

Someone hit him square in the back with the force of a thousand fists. He knew that punch. He smirked.

'Stop daydreaming Trent, you're here to make beautiful music!'

'Hey Janey,' he said softly, turning to see his sister grinning cheekily in his face. Her smile had something borrowed in it, like she had stolen it from someone else.

'You still punch like a girl,' he muttered.

'Shut up, dweeb. I had to brave out this party for you so don't make me regret it,' she said, pointing his finger at him. 'Now where's that ridiculous crystal cup Mr. Thompson bought for Brittany?'

'Uh, I think somewhere in the fridge. He's keeping it cool.'

Jane laughed. 'Man, imagine what a great subject for a painting that would be.'

'I doubt it. But I've got a good subject for your nudes,' he said, pointing at Amber from across the room. She waved happily.

Jane smirked.

'Well, look who's getting laid tonight.'

'She's married. To the guy who hired me. And she's Brittany's stepmom.'

'That never stopped you before.'

Trent frowned. 'Don't remind me. She's not my type, either way.'

'You don't have a type,' Jane said laughing.

'How do you know?'

'Just don't bring her home, I'd hate to have to explain things to Brittany,' Jane added.

'I don't think she'd even notice or mind,' he said.

'_I_ would both.'

'Look, I'm not screwing what's her face. So you can calm down.'

'I was just teasing you little brother.'

'No, thanks,' he muttered.

'What's got into you? I can't even joke with you anymore?'

He sighed.

'Sure you can. Just not about my fucking around.'

Jane narrowed her eyes briefly.

'Are you getting serious with someone?'

'What?'

'I mean, do you have a girlfriend I should know about?'

'Why would you ask that?'

'Well, you reek of pathetic feelings,' she said, looking him up and down.

'Don't be stupid, Janey,' he said, smiling wryly.

She looked around annoyed. 'Man, I think I lost Tom and Daria. There are way too many people I hate here.'

Trent's heart almost made a flip.

'What?'

'Tom and Daria, I brought them with me silly.'

Trent's brain started putting things together quickly. Janey had brought Daria, probably against her will. And she had also brought Tom, somehow. And now Tom and Daria were alone in this crowd.

'Let's go look for them,' he said, and started parting the crowd.

'Wow, wow, wait for me. What's the big rush?'

'I don't like this entourage. Don't want them to get in trouble.'

'Trent, these are just classmates. Guinea pigs are more harmful than they are.'

He rolled his eyes.

'Will you just follow me?'

'Okay, okay, they have to be here somewhere...' she said, pursing her lips.

'Trent, Trent!' a voice called. He ignored it.

'Trent!'

A hand pulled him by the shoulder. It was Jess.

'Dude, we start in five. Come on, we have to practice a little.'

Trent looked at the large hand Jess had plastered over his arm. He glared at it.

'You go, Trent, I'll look for them,' Jane said, patting his shoulder.

He huffed and shook himself from their hands. He walked rapidly towards the small stage and grabbed his guitar angrily.

'Uh, Trent, we should start with...' Max began.

'Pick anything,' he said, rubbing his eyes. Now that he was higher, he could see better. But the crowd looked empty of both Daria and Tom.

Suddenly, he saw Mr. Thompson approaching him. He handed him a note.

'Make sure you say this before you start singing, sport,' he said, winking.

'Okay, we're gonna play _Every Dog Has His Day_, Trent, you game?' Nick asked.

'Sure, whatever,' he replied.

'Dude, if you gotta cool off some steam, tell us now, before we shit all over this gig,' Max intervened.

'I'm fine. You're the only idiots still talking about it.'

'Okay, so after _Every Dog_, we go for our usual set right?'

'Didn't we discuss this already?' he asked annoyed.

'Yeah, but we still haven't decided about the _Black and Bleak_ song. Are we still doing the subzero line?'

'No...' Trent began, but Jess interrupted him.

'Yeah, we have to, it's the best lyric we have. It's so deep, no one will get it.'

Trent sighed and rubbed the back of his head in frustration.

'I'm pretty sure you guys don't get it either. Okay, sound check!' he yelled.

Nick slid the controls on the sound board. The resonance caused a cabinet full of glassware to shake considerably.

'Um, maybe we should turn it down a little,' Trent suggested, wincing.

'Hey, we're Mystik Spiral and we're here to honour...' he began, looking down at the note in his hand, 'Brittany Taylor for her...achievements and hard work. Congratulations...from your father and stepmother. Hit it!'

'_You put me on a short lease, and threw away my hydrant. You ate up all my kibble, now my coat's no longer vibrant. My nose is dry and chapped, but this puppy's here to stay. Scratch my belly baby, every dog has his day!' _

He was midway through the song, when he spotted her.

She was alone, in a sea of dancers. Everyone was moving, jumping up, dancing, but she was standing still.

And she watched him play with all the seriousness and intensity of reading a book.

He was quite sure she didn't know he could see her. She was standing all the way in the back, but she stood out. Somehow, she did. He couldn't explain it if he tried.

There are horrible moments in everyone's life, these moments when you realize you're part of a ridiculous romance that is about to take over your entire being and make you regret ever having believed there was something decent in the world. You come to understand there is too much trouble, too much hassle, too much pain and disappointment to even try to be part of a relationship. These horrible moments of deep clarity when you know that even though you really, really like someone, you're never going to want to be with them.

That didn't happen to Trent.

Although he almost wished it had. He wished he could have looked at her and not wanted to do anything with her. It would have been so much easier.

Instead, he felt a calm sense of beauty wrapping around his heart. Everything was well.

The girl with the prettiest hair, prettiest eyes, prettiest face, prettiest green jacket, prettiest black boots, prettiest short skirt, was watching him.

Of course, pretty here was an adjective that involved several meanings. And only one of them meant beautiful. And that meaning wasn't very important. In fact, it was the least important.

Because she was Daria. And she was a self-definition, a self-creation.

The song ended. That is when Tom appeared. He came from behind her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

When she turned, he handed her a beer. She muttered a small 'thank you'.

Trent pulled his eyes away and looked at Amber Ashley who was standing by the doorway, dangling her foot back and fro, staring at him behind her eyelashes.

He kept playing.

After the fourth song they took a break. Trent almost leapt off the stage. He was kind of excited. He found Tom and Jane standing idly by the bar talking.

'Hey, good set! You guys didn't suck as much as you usually do!' Jane greeted him, tapping him on the shoulder.

'Thanks for the standing ovation.'

'Eh, I try,' she said, in a dramatic voice.

Trent grabbed a cup and poured himself some punch.

'Where's Daria?' he asked nonchalantly.

'You won't believe this but apparently Quinn _needs_ her,' Jane replied, rolling her eyes.

'Huh, I think I saw her sister crying in a corner,' Trent remarked.

'Oh boy, I'd better go find Daria then,' Jane said and ran off.

Tom was going to follow Jane but Trent gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He whispered into Tom's year.

'I thought we had a deal.'

'My two weeks aren't up,' he muttered, looking away.

'But they will be,' Trent warned him calmly.

'Just give me more time,' he whispered, moving away from his grasp. 'I'll fix this.'

Trent didn't know what he meant by 'fix'. There was nothing to be fixed. He just had to break up with Jane before she actually got hurt. How difficult was that? It wasn't as if Tom still had feelings for Jane.

Or did he?

Did that son of a bitch like _both_ of them?

Trent shook his head. No, he wasn't the son of a bitch here. He was just a guy who had got bored with his girlfriend. Hadn't that happened to him countless times in the past?

But he had no right to make his moves on Daria. He couldn't like two girls at the same time and get away with it. That was just not going to happen.

He fought his way through a throng of loud teenagers so he could find the kitchen and get a decent drunk, not some half-assed punch.

As he was walking down the barely-lit hallway, someone caught up with him, someone wearing screeching heels.

Amber Ashley pulled him to her and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

'Great show, Trent!'

Trent was caught off guard. His hands landed on her thighs. She pushed him against the wall and tried kissing him again, this time on the lips.

'Wow, wow...uh, Amber...what's got into you?'

'Come on, don't be silly,' she said sweetly. 'You know you wanted to do that from the beginning.'

'Uh, you're mistaking me...' he said, taking her two hands in his, 'for someone else.'

He pushed her softly away.

Amber frowned and folded her arms demandingly.

'I don't get it. I like you and you like me. What's the mistake here?'

'I don't do this sort of thing...' he mumbled.

'Really? Funny, cuz you look just like the type,' she drawled.

'Okay. Maybe in the past I...had my share, but I'm trying not to...fall into old habits,' he confessed.

'I'm _not_ just an old habit. You'll have fun with me, you'll see,' she purred, bringing his face close again.

'No, Amber. I don't want this.'

'Why the hell not?' she almost shrieked, growing angry.

'I like someone else,' he blurted out in irritation.

'Unless that someone is a guy, it's still irrelevant,' she said indifferently.

Trent frowned.

'I'd better go talk to Mr. Thompson.'

'About what? How you kept flirting with me? Is that how you want it to go?' she asked in a defensive tone.

He halted.

'I was going to talk about the sound system. We already broke some silverware,' he said coldly.

'Oh,' she said lamely. 'That...'

'Yes.'

'Don't worry about that. Nothing is real silver in this house.'

'I suspected,' he said, smiling.

'I'm sorry,' she muttered morosely. 'I...got a bit upset. Won't happen again.'

'It's alright. I get it.'

'Really? I don't think so,' she said, placing her hands on her hips.

'You're young, you're beautiful...and you're stuck in a helpless marriage.'

Amber laughed. 'Okay, I underestimated you.'

'You can't help it sometimes,' he added. 'I understand.'

She tilted her head to the side. 'I usually get most guys to sleep with me. Even my husband. On his good days.'

'Sorry. I'm going to disappoint you there.'

'She must really be special, that girl of yours. I mean, if you're rejecting this...' she trailed off, pointing suggestively at her body, 'for her.'

'Yeah,' he said, looking down amused, 'she kind of is.'

* * *

The second set was almost done and he had yet to find Daria and talk to her, or Jane and Tom for that matter. He had underestimated the size of the house. But he was confident he was going to get to talk to her soon. After the little incident with Amber he felt a little bit more confident and maybe, a bit proud of himself.

He was unplugging his guitar, when someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

Little did he expect to find Daria standing right before him. He didn't think she would ever approach him willingly. Not tonight anyways.

'Hey.'

'Daria... Hey.'

'You were pretty solid tonight,' she commented.

'Thanks. I thought so too.'

'Though I have to ask, who wrote that 'below subzero' line?' she asked.

'Not me,' he said quickly, chuckling. 'I tried telling them it was idiotic.'

'You can't expect them to know basic algebra,' she replied.

Trent was pleasantly surprised. He wouldn't have expected this conversation in a million years.

'So, listen, I kind of need your help,' she said awkwardly.

'Oh.'

'Quinn has had a...well, let's call it breakdown, and she needs to get home. So, I'd be grateful if you could drive us.'

'What about Jane and Tom?'

'What about them? Tom can drive her home,' she said matter-of-factly.

Trent smiled inwardly. She could have asked Tom to drive her and Quinn home, but she had avoided that.

'Okay, well, give me two seconds,' he said, waving back at the other guys who were growing restless.

'Meet you upfront then,' she mumbled.

'Sure thing.'

* * *

'Gawd, just drive faster please,' Quinn yelped from the back seat. Her 'new' new jeans were completely soaked. And she had been completely crushed by Sandi. Not to mention, her strong beliefs in guardian angels had been shaken. She had had a rough night.

Daria couldn't help but sympathize a little.

'You're being overly dramatic again. It's going to be alright.'

'Easy for you to say, Daria! No one saw you in dripping wet pants!'

_Damn_. Trent had just pictured it. He shook his head quickly.

'And your best friend didn't just totally bail on you!' she added upset.

Daria sighed.

'It happens to everyone. Even to me. It doesn't mean it's the end of the world.'

Trent raised an eyebrow. But she remained silent.

He liked seeing her next to him in his car. It was reassuring, like the way some things never change.

When they arrived in front of her house, Quinn almost leapt out of the car. She slammed the door and ran into the house angrily.

'You know, I live for moments like these,' she commented, staring at her sister's back. 'And yet, I can't fully enjoy this.'

He chuckled.

'Means you're growing soft.'

'A scary prospect,' she remarked dryly.

'I know,' he replied.

Daria glanced at him surreptitiously.

'I don't usually apply this adjective more than twice a year, so I can hardly believe I am saying this right now, but... it was cute what you did,' she said, all in one breath.

Trent frowned confused.

'What...?'

Daria cleared her throat. 'Brittany's stepmom.'

Trent froze in his seat.

How the hell...? She had seen that? How? When? There were so many questions bombarding his head right now.

'How much did you see?'

'The whole four acts,' she joked.

'Oh. Crap. I bet that wasn't pleasant.'

'Eh, it wasn't so bad. Cougars tend to have a charm. Even if you're the cougar in this equation,' she said.

He laughed.

'You're funny, Daria.'

'I've been told.'

'So...what I said was cute,' he concluded.

'Kind of. But don't tell Jane. Or anyone else. That I said that, I mean. I'd never hear the end of it,' she said, shaking her head.

'So...we're good?' he asked hopefully.

'We're good... friends,' she reiterated, bringing him back to the beginning.

He could hear the disappointment in his voice.

'Oh.'

'For now,' Daria added.

Trent couldn't help the smile that crawled back on his face.

'Sure thing.'

'Okay, I'd better get inside before Quinn's brain explodes from too much angst,' she joked.

Trent chuckled.

'Yeah, I think that's wise. I'll see you around then.'

'Sure.'

The night couldn't have gone better if he had planned it.


	13. Chapter 13

_13: Fire! (part I)_

Coming out of his room around eight in the evening, he came across a worrying sight. Well, firstly, he smelt something off. There was food in the kitchen, that he could tell, but there was also a familiar scent pervading the house.

Surely, the worrying sight mentioned earlier, was Tom and Jane sprawled on the living room couch, watching TV quietly.

It wasn't the fact that they were sitting peacefully, doing what couples do generally, it was the fact that he was expecting Tom to break up with Jane any day now.

In fact, he had almost thought he had. The other day, Jane had been furious with him and Trent had wrongly believed Tom had finally taken the step, but no, it appears they had been fighting over a Felini movie.

So imagine his unpleasant surprise to spot Tom sitting so comfortably next to his sister when he was supposed to end things.

'What are you two watching?' Trent asked, making his presence known.

When Tom's eyes fell on him, he coughed awkwardly and started looking for the remote.

'A documentary on whale sounds and a Sonic Youth concert at the same time. Well, we switch back and fro,' Jane explained.

'How can you tell the difference?' Trent quipped.

'You're just jealous of their talent, Trent,' she said, sticking out her tongue.

'Yeah, I might have been ten years ago,' he replied.

'Hey, can you see if the popcorn is done? Tom was making some,' she asked him.

'Uh, I'd better go check myself, just in case,' Tom muttered, getting up quickly.

Trent followed him.

When they arrived in the kitchen, Tom left all pretense aside and launched right into the subject.

'Look, I know what you're thinking.'

'I doubt it,' Trent replied.

'And yes, things have not been going great between me and her. It's not just me. I'm pretty sure the break will not be one-sided. She's told me she's getting bored and that things are not the same.'

'So? Isn't this good news? It means she won't be too upset after the break,' Trent reasoned.

'I know it's better this way, but since she wants out too, I don't want to rush this. I want this to be mutual.'

'Sounds like it already is.'

'I want to reach a consensus,' he went on, ignoring his comment. 'I don't want to be the one to break up, I want both of us to reach that conclusion, after a serious talk.'

'You're telling me you're too scared to be the 'bad guy'. Is that it?'

'No, you got me wrong. I _am_ the bad guy, but I don't want Jane to feel like she's not part of this. She wants to break up too. I want to do it together. So we can reach an understanding. And maybe break off on friendly terms. Because I'd like to be her friend.'

Trent frowned.

'I guess that's fine…As long as you're not doing this to buy some time,' he commented.

'I'm not buying time. I just want this to happen like a break between friends,' Tom argued.

'It's never a break between friends, not in the beginning,' Trent assured him.

'I think Jane and I are different.'

Trent chuckled. 'You don't know my sister, then.'

Just then, they heard a ring at the door.

Trent scratched his head.

'I'd better get that,' he muttered.

It was always so frustrating talking to Tom, because something always came up and he never got to say everything he wanted. Every one of their conversations had been left unfinished. There were many things unsaid.

He opened the door and blinked in a daze.

Daria was standing on the threshold, holding a small travel bag, looking much like a Jack Kerouac character.

He was silent for a good second, blinded by the vision in front of him.

'Oh,' she said, her eyes widening.

'Daria. Hey. Hi,' he began.

'Hey Trent.'

'Hey, Daria,' he repeated mechanically.

'Trent, I…'

'Daria, Hi…I mean, come in.'

'Thanks,' she said, walking past him.

A small blush was gracing her cheeks.

'She's here, I mean Daria's here,' Trent stammered slightly as he walked in the living the room again.

Tom had come from the kitchen, holding the bowl of popcorn.

Jane stared at Trent in wonder. She thought he looked a bit nervous. She shook her head. Her brother never got nervous.

'Hey, Daria, what's up?' Tom began, a bit brighter than he had intended.

'Um, I'm sorry to barge in like this…'

'No problem, amiga, what happened?' Jane asked, pointing at the travel bag.

'There was a fire at my house… and we're currently stranded in a hotel,'

'Wow, a fire. Is everyone okay?' Trent asked, concern edging his voice.

She stared at him surprised.

'Physically yes, mentally I'm not sure,' she quipped.

'Why didn't you call and tell me?' Jane asked surprised.

'It wasn't such a big deal.'

'No kidding! Just your common house fire.'

'Well, I didn't have much time on my hands, we had to move some stuff. And there was also the issue of Quinn…'

'Let me guess…'

'They made me share a room with her.'

'They tried to break you, dammit!' Jane exclaimed.

'Wow, that's quite a blow,' Tom added.

'I'm okay. I got out before she applied the eyelash curler. Look, do you mind if I stay here tonight? I'm afraid if I go back, I'll make a lethal weapon out of the complimentary corkscrew,' she explained.

'Um, sure, why not?' Jane agreed, trying to sound cheerful, although her tone said otherwise, a thing which did not escape Trent.

'You can stay as long as you want,' Trent added warmly.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

'Hey, why don't the four of us get some pizza?' he asked.

'I _am_ low on vitamins,' Daria began.

'Cool, then we should head out,' Tom continued.

He looked at Trent intently, waiting for his answer. He sighed and nodded.

'Sure, I forgot if I ate today, sounds like a plan.'

'Okay, well you can leave your bag Daria and we'll…' Tom began, but Jane quickly interrupted.

'Hey, did anyone bother to ask me if _I_ wanted to go for pizza?'

'Um, but you do, right?' Tom asked hopefully.

She sighed, much like her brother, and got off the couch.

'Let's go.'

Daria and Trent shared a meaningful look before they all headed out.

* * *

The pizza place was packed. They barely managed to find a free table. It was Sunday night after all.

Trent assumed most of them were Lawndale High students. They looked like it. That or his fellow classmates hadn't graduated in six years, which actually wouldn't be such a big stretch.

'Is this the Sunday crowd again?' Tom asked.

'It's always the same, although it seems varied. You can tell by the steady level of dimwittedness,' Jane commented.

'Look, Kevin and Brittany are sitting at opposite tables. I wonder if they got into a fight again. This should be fun,' she added.

'As always,' Daria remarked, but added nothing else.

She was strangely quiet. She had been so the entire drive.

Trent could very well guess why she was so silent in his presence, but he realized Jane must think it was some other reason.

They waited for a table to clear. Tom remarked this wasn't much different from his country-club restaurant and everyone chuckled. Another proof that they were all tense.

Daria sat next to Trent again, and Jane next to Tom, but the arrangement was faulty, because Daria was standing right in front of Tom.

His stares, though by no means anything more than friendly, were a bit too frequent.

'So, tell us more about what happened,' Tom asked her.

Daria swallowed the pizza and coughed.

'Well, I think I told you everything there is to know,' she replied. 'It wasn't a big fire.'

'How much damage?' Trent asked.

'The kitchen and a bit of the upstairs floor,' she said, shrugging her shoulders.

'What caused it anyway?' Tom asked.

'Dad decided he wanted some hot milk at one in the morning,' she replied.

Tom laughed. He was the only one.

Daria stared at him disconcerted.

'I mean, it's kind of funny,' he defended himself.

'Do your parents know where you are?' Trent suddenly asked and they all realized they had not thought of that at all.

'No. I couldn't find the right time to tell them. And they wouldn't have let me come. So…' she explained.

'You took matters into your own hands,' Trent finished.

'Sort of.'

'I bet Quinn is jealous. You got your freedom, while she's stuck there,' Tom intervened.

'Actually, she was glad to have the room to herself. She is a bit taken with the hotel. And the bellboy. Although I think it's the other way around.'

'Ouch, Quinn Morgendorffer strikes again,' Jane said, smirking.

'Terror into the hearts of men, yeah,' Daria finished.

Tom laughed again, while Trent only chuckled silently, smiling in her direction.

It was obvious there was a small battle going on, but only Tom was fighting.

After some minutes, Daria stopped eating and she dropped her hands in her lap.

Tom was telling them some of the new Fielding gossip. Another scandal about a blow job in the bathroom, but this time, apparently, the culprits were two boys.

He kept asking both Jane and Daria what they thought, but every time he asked them, his eyes went almost unconsciously to Daria, which started to unnerve Jane.

It was quickly becoming a dangerous conversation. Not that anyone besides them would have noticed something wrong.

To the external eye, they were just chatting like friends, but Trent could sense the inner turmoil.

He saw Daria wasn't feeling comfortable.

He decided to be brave.

He placed his hand over hers.

They were hidden by the table, so neither Tom nor Jane could see what was happening.

At first, he felt her moving away from his grasp, but in a few moments, she relented and accepted his touch.

They stayed like that for a few good minutes. The warmth of their hands made things much easier to bear.

And Daria didn't even blush. Although her eyes betrayed her emotions, which were verging on strong.

Tom took this as a sign of encouragement and continued his stares.

It was a real predicament.

* * *

When they got back home, they were all beat. Keeping the appearance of civility and cheerfulness was tiring, even for Tom.

Trent was already far too late for practice to even show up, so he decided to go to bed instead.

He saw Jane, Daria and Tom climb upstairs to the bedrooms.

Jane had told Daria she'd put her in Penny's room.

Trent realized that, mathematically speaking, that was the furthest room from his.

When Jane and Tom climbed down to the living room again, they were talking quietly.

Trent left his door ajar, just in case.

He could swear they were arguing in silence. But eventually Tom left and Jane, after wandering lazily through the kitchen, finally climbed back up.

After the coast was clear, Trent left his room.

It was almost midnight. The house was strangely quiet now that Daria was here.

He knew he shouldn't, that he would be pushing it when he knew Daria wanted things to go slowly, but he told himself he wouldn't knock at her door, he would just go upstairs a little, to check things.

There was light under her door. He could see from afar. It lit the way, because the rest of the rooms were under the cover of darkness.

He stood in front of her door for a full-minute, just staring stupidly at the knob, feeling the warm air rip through his thoughts like a sleeping drought. The alarming darkness around him felt like small insects, pinching his skin.

There was just one square of wood that was separating them and it was becoming physically uncomfortable. Not that he wanted to sleep with her. Well, not now of course. He just wanted to touch her again and maybe even kiss her.

Although kissing Daria felt like something taken out of an absurd fantasy, the kind you never truly experienced but in your dreams. It was like she was a hologram, the kind he'd seen in Star Wars and while it was nice to imagine kissing one, it would never really happen.

Though if he ever did get to kiss Daria, and he secretly thought he would, he knew it would be quite satisfying.

He was about to turn and walk away, but the door opened abruptly.

The sight in front of him was very comical.

Daria was wearing her Mark Twain pajama yet again, holding a towel in her left hand and a bag of bathroom supplies.

It was like he was traveling back to last year, when he had spent those peaceful moments in her room and they had sat on her bed, talking about nonsense. That had felt nice.

But the familiar pang of pain hit him right in the middle of this memory. He recalled his dream. Terror swept over him like a cold shower. He remembered how in his dream he had not been able to hear her voice, how he had struggled with the silence and how she had looked at him with pity and sadness.

He shook his head. Was this a dream again? Was this even real? How could he tell?

What if he wouldn't be able to hear her again? What would he do?

Would he never come to understand?

'Trent? What are you doing here?' she asked, slightly alarmed.

He opened his mouth in shock.

He exhaled.

She was talking. He could hear her. Fragments of her voice dropping in his mind like needles on a pillow.

He forced himself to speak.

'I…just wanted to borrow your toothbrush,' he said lamely.

The irony was not lost on her.

She remembered too how he had asked Jane the same thing the night he had sat with her in her room.

'My toothbrush,' she repeated, in a deadpan voice.

'I…sort of lost mine, you see.'

'Why don't you ask Jane?'

'She's a heavy sleeper,' he explained.

'Well, let me go to the bathroom first and then it's all yours,' she replied dryly.

He smiled and nodded his head.

He was blocking her way, so he quickly moved aside, but he moved the wrong way and Daria almost collided with him. She tried the other way but he had chosen to turn in the opposite direction, so they collided again.

He couldn't exactly ignore the fact that she was wearing a silly excuse for a pajama.

He felt the soft skin beneath her shirt and her socked toes on his bare feet.

'Sorry, I…'

'Er, yeah, just let me…'

'Here, I'll…'

They finally managed to let the other one pass.

Trent waited in her room until she came back. He sat on Penny's bed and gazed in front of him at a small desk, placed right under the window.

It was laden with books.

He realized then that he still hadn't given her _Waste Land_ back. Not that she knew he had it. He was almost done reading it.

How would he tell her though? He couldn't just explain how he'd stolen it from Jane's nightstand.

He thought he should finish it tomorrow and put it on her desk after she left for school, or before.

He didn't know if he could wake up that early, but he'd try.

He began reading the titles of the books. The letters appeared in a haze. His eyes were closing sleepily.

When Daria entered the room, she found him sprawled on her bed, fast asleep.

And despite herself, she smiled.

Her Mona Lisa smile was rare, but Trent would have remarked it was beautiful, had he been awake.

She tried waking him up. She didn't dare touch him too much. She shook him gently. She whispered in his ear. Then she said his name a bit louder. She opened his eyelids curiously.

He almost seemed dead. Completely asleep.

Trent had been right about Jane, she was a heavy sleeper, but so was he. Even more so, if it came to that.

Daria sighed. Truth be told, she could have woken him up easily.

But she found herself not wanting to. He was a nice sight, lounged on the bed like a fallen prince. Horatio's words from _Hamlet_ came to mind, but she stopped herself before saying something corny.

Taking a blanket with her, she crept downstairs silently and found his room.

It was a total mess. But his bed looked warm and comfy and his room smelt strangely of apples.

Maybe it was the extreme exhaustion or the indifference, but she crawled in his bed and fell asleep, all the while feeling she was going to pay for this tomorrow.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey, what's up you guys? Time for another (very) delayed update! My two excuses for my tardiness: finals and my other stories. A writer's job is never done, or something smart like that. I want to thank all of you awesome Daria/Trent nerds out there who reviewed and supported the story, I am very grateful :) Thanks also to the people who don't necessarily fall into that category :))  
**

**I decided to make Fire! into 3 parts instead of 2. I know, you're doing a happy dance already...or not. I hope you like this short chapter, it's the calm before the storm. :)  
**

**Please tell me what you think.**

* * *

_14: Fire! (part II)_

'Open the door, Morgendorffer, it's school time!' Jane yelled, knocking loudly on Penny's door, tapping her foot impatiently.

Trent stirred under the covers he didn't know he had pulled over his head.

It smelt like peppers and papaya. He sniffed confused. Penny? Why was he in Penny's room? Good God, was he having that nightmare again? He had walked in on a half-naked Penny once and he had never been able to live it down.

He yawned in his fist and raised himself. His body felt stiff. The mattress hadn't been particularly comfortable. And he realized he was wearing the same clothes as last night. Typical. He needed a shower.

'Daria! I'm coming in!'

It's at that point that Trent remembered why he was here and who _should_ have been here instead.

_Shit!_

Without a second thought, he bent down and crawled under the bed, as he saw his sister slowly part the door.

Jane surveyed the room mystified.

'I could have sworn I heard some noise...' she mumbled. Her eyes fell on the bed. Daria had slept there, she figured. She must be somewhere around the house then.

She lingered around for a moment longer, making Trent curse his internal weakness. His entire body itched.

'Daria!' she called, walking out with an air of indecisiveness.

He let out a breath and quickly snuck out, finding refuge in Wind's bedroom. He listened carefully to Jane walking around the house.

She had gone down to the kitchen. He heard her slam the fridge door.

He relaxed a little bit. She hadn't discovered him. He didn't know how that would have ended. Probably bad.

Jane had started washing some dishes. He frowned. She never did that. Something must be off.

Ever so carefully he climbed down the stairs with the intent to get to his room unnoticed, but as he slipped past the kitchen door, he heard Jane grunt.

'Yo, Trent,' she called out. 'Why are you up so early?'

He winced. She had a way of sensing him even when he was being as quiet as the wooden floors. He supposed years of living with him would do that to a person.

He sighed and popped his head in the doorway.

'Hangover,' he mumbled shaking his head.

She raised an eyebrow. 'You got drunk last night?'

'Jess came over and we had some beers,' he lied.

'I didn't hear Jess' car.'

'You're a heavy sleeper.'

'I didn't hear him leave either.'

'What's with the suspicion, _mom_?' he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

'I am only pointing out some logical facts. Nothing more, nothing less.'

'You don't handle logic well,' he shot back.

'I sense you are lying to me,' she continued undeterred. 'I just don't know what about. But you're acting strange, my friend.'

'Really?'

'Yes, and soon I will discover your horrible secret.'

'I stashed the body same place you'll never look,' he joked.

'Mock me all you want now, but you will eat your words someday.'

Trent nodded his head sleepily. 'Why are you washing the dishes, anyways?'

'I don't know. I felt like doing it. Plus, Tom is coming over after school and I don't want him doing it,' she explained awkwardly.

'Doing what? Washing the dishes? When has he ever done that?'

'He did it once or twice, he said the place was a mess...' Jane trailed off, looking around, lost.

'He _does_ have a point, but we like it that way, don't we?'

'For the most part,' she said, going back to her dishes. 'Man, the grease on these is three months old.'

'If only we could afford a maid...' Trent commented.

'Bourgeois much?' Jane drawled.

'If that's some fancy word for snob, I'll take it. I'm gonna go...back to sleeping,' he said, pointing at his room.

'Back to sleep, huh? But you came the other way,' she pointed out, showing him the direction to his room.

_Damn. She's good. _

'Yeah...well I went to have a drink...of water in the bathroom,' he explained awkwardly. Thank God the bathroom was there.

'You didn't puke on mom's blazer again, did you?' Jane asked accusatorily.

'Hmm...we really should pick that up from the floor,' he commented. 'But no, I hit my target this time.'

He yawned heavily and backed away imperceptibly, hoping she wouldn't stall him anymore.

When she was out of earshot, he rushed to his room and shut the door behind him relieved. It was always a comfort to be back here, no matter how bleak and empty it was.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and pulled off his shirt in one fluid motion. He didn't have the same dexterity with his pants and he ended up sitting on the bed, fumbling with his zipper.

Someone stirred behind him. He froze.

Was it the mice again? It couldn't be. He had used up all his poison last month.

Some racoon?

He heard a soft mewling.

He looked over his shoulder with the corner of his eye. He doubled up.

Daria's small figure was sleeping on the other side of the bed, her nose buried in his pillow, her hair sprawled over her back like a wild mane.

She had pulled the covers over her, but he knew she had the Mark Twain T-shirt on. And that T-shirt was not all that long, so she was a bit naked under the sheets. He wasn't thinking like a pervert, he was just trying to add up the fact that she was sleeping in his bed with a lame excuse for a pyjama.

There was a sense of irony in all of this he just couldn't grasp, but he knew he would later.

He just hoped he wouldn't have to pull the covers off of her. That would be really awkward since he was half-naked as well.

It got more awkward, however.

The door flew open, all of a sudden. Crap, why hadn't he locked it as usual?

But he had special training for this. In a split second he managed to pull the covers over Daria's head and stretch across her body in order to hide her frame.

Jane's eyes flew immediately to the lump in the bed. Trent rested his head against Daria's stomach as if she were a pillow, praying she wouldn't move or stir as long as his sister was in the room.

'Did you finally buy yourself a man-pillow?' Jane asked amused.

'I happen to...sleep with my guitar sometimes,' he mumbled hastily. 'What do you want?'

Jane didn't seem convinced. She shrugged her shoulders.

'You're a little creep.'

'And proud of it.'

'Listen, Tom just called, he's taking me to a party at his place, so I'm not going to be here tonight. I'm letting you know since last time I was gone, you decided to drive to his house, which was, no doubt, very sweet of you, but I'd like to prevent that from happening again. I left you some pasta in the fridge. Will you be okay?'

She had said all of this so fast that he could only nod in resignation. He couldn't exactly stall her in his current position. He was bothered by the fact that Tom was still playing the relationship game with his sister, but this wasn't a very good moment to breach a delicate subject like that, not when Jane knew nothing of his conversations with Tom, or the fact that Daria was sleeping under him.

'Um, be safe and stuff,' he said, eyeing her carefully.

'Yeah, I'll leave a phone number. Well, I'll let you get back to your guitar fondling...'

She was about to walk out, but she remembered something.

'By the way, have you seen Daria? I've been looking for her everywhere and I can't find her.'

Trent could feel the sweat prickling his forehead.

_Don't give in now..._

'Maybe she went to school early.'

'Nah, her bag's still in the living room. And that's not her usual style...'

'Maybe she made an exception today... I don't know...' he trailed off, trying to sound nonchalant.

'Hmm. I'll go check again. I hope she's alright.'

'Hey, you should call the hotel,' Trent suddenly said. 'Maybe she went back there.'

He knew this would buy them some time. Janey took forever on the phone.

'Huh, good idea I guess. You should get drunk with Jess more often,' she said and left the room, leaving the door open.

When he heard her walk away, he jumped off the bed and hauled towards the door. He locked it tightly.

_Okay, now what? _

He didn't see any stirring from the bed. What if there was something wrong? Was she ill? Had he accidentally suffocated her? He shook his head. That was stupid, even for him.

He sat down next to her and touched her shoulder tentatively.

She was very warm. He shook her gently.

'Daria...hey, Daria...Dar-'

All of a sudden, she pulled the covers off of her and released a long breath.

Trent almost jumped out of his skin.

'Jesus Christ! You were awake all this time?'

Daria winced at him groggily.

'As it happens, your head on my stomach is not that comfortable,' she commented dryly.

Trent was sure his cheeks were burning like he was back in third grade.

'And...your guitar? Really?' she asked.

'You have to admire the creativity,' he said, smiling briefly.

'Yeah, especially since your guitar is in plain sight,' she pointed at the other corner of his room where the guitar was visibly placed on a shelf.

Trent laughed hoarsely.

'God damn it...'

Daria chuckled. 'You're getting old.'

Trent stared at her surprised. He hadn't been ready for that remark and now he felt somewhere between sad and offended. He tried to shake it off, but he knew he words were like a sharp needle, picking at his brain without mercy.

Daria quickly realized she had put her foot in it.

'Oh, uh, I meant...well, you know what I meant. Not old age-wise. You're still a kid,' she corrected herself.

He raised an eyebrow.

'I mean an _older_ kid,' she corrected herself again, blushing slightly.

'That sounds kinda pathetic,' he commented looking down.

Daria patted his shoulder awkwardly.

'It would be pathetic if you were a _younger_ adult,' she joked.

He smirked and glanced at her with something undeciphrable in his eyes. She glanced back.

Maybe it was true what they said in those low-budget movies; that these are the best moments of the day.

And then they both realized they were in bed, he was half-naked and she was bare-legged.

It was too bad they were both paralyzed.

The strange thing was that they were aware they couldn't move. They knew one single gesture could either break it or make it, so they were content to wait for something to happen as long as they didn't have to actually do anything.

They sat like that for three minutes. It was unnerving.

Luckily, though, Daria still liked to be on time for school, so she snapped out of her trance.

She slid off the bed as if she were a child and almost knocked herself against some useless crap Trent had dumped on the floor. She massaged her knee briefly.

'Jane is probably worried, I'd better make an appearance,' she said.

'Good idea,' he said, getting up as well, struggling to find the right words to continue the awkward conversation.

'Um, sorry about the bed switch,' he finally said. 'I shouldn't have fallen asleep like an idiot.'

'It's okay. It's _your_ house and I don't mind. I should have probably found another room. In my defence, I was...sleep deprived and stressed.'

'Hey, your house almost burnt down and you got stuck with...your sister,' he said, not recalling her name. 'I'd be stressed too. Well, I'd probably start living in the Tank.'

She smiled.

'Trent the nomad,' she quipped.

'Something like that.'

It was getting awkward between them again.

She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.

'Well... I guess you should go,' he said, scratching his head.

'You locked the door,' she reminded him.

He slapped his forehead.

_Stop losing your shit, you dumbass, _he thought annoyed.

'Course...' he mumbled and went to unlock his door, his fingers conveniently more slippery than usual.

'Thanks,' she said as she walked out, and the smile she gave him made him think she was not just grateful for the door.

As soon as she was gone, he threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes.

He was going to sleep and think it over this afternoon...or tonight, depending on his ability to wake up again.

He popped one eye open.

Damn. The sheets smelled like her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys, time for a new chapter again, this time it's ridiculously long and contrived as opposed to my other previous short chapter! I know you're feeling overwhelmed by the length but it's not all bad, I promise. Thanks again so much for being kind of the best readers a silly fanfiction writer could have, thanks so much for the reviews and support. I feel I am repeating myself but it's true. **

**I am feeling a bit unsure about this chapter mainly because it's my longest, my most complex and...well you get my point. I hope you'll like it. Please tell me what you think as usual :)**

* * *

_15: Fire! (part III)_

Inexplicable of him, Trent was taking out the trash at two in the afternoon that day. Sure, he was going at it in the same fashion a snail would cross a wet street, but this was the first time in some months he was actually doing something around the house. Not only that, but he was also going to clean up the living room a bit (that is, pick up the empty bags of chips and cans of beer and maybe sweep the couch of all those multi-cultural foods leftovers) and open a window so that it would stop smelling like dry socks in there.

He was aware that Daria would return at around four-ish in the afternoon and that he had less than two hours to go see if the bathroom was in any way offending to the human senses and to drive all the way to the video store to pick up a movie.

The movie was something of a surprise he had come up with during his short nap. He knew Jane would be out of the house this evening, leaving the two of them in each other's less than spectacular company, and he also knew what was going to happen; Daria would sit quietly in her room, avoiding him like the plague, and trying not to get out of the room unless she had a bathroom emergency (hence the bathroom check up again) and he would probably waste time in front of the TV or tuning his guitar all the while wondering what she was doing up there. The night would go by emptily and neither would really enjoy themselves. They'd both sit on their beds and sulk, thinking about fun, but not having any.

So he decided to take matters into his own hands and organize a small movie night. It wasn't going to be something big or impressive – it wasn't even going to _be_ a movie night per se – because he couldn't really handle big _or_ impressive, but it would be a much better way for them to interact without the constant awkwardness, the long pauses and the dangling conversations.

The most difficult part, of course, would be picking a movie that both he and Daria would enjoy. This was not a matter of taste, because he was fairly confident he could find something in the streak of _Sick Sad World_, but what he really needed tonight was a movie that didn't demand much of either of them and wouldn't be a trigger for embarrassing, staggering subjects. Sure, he could rent a Felini, since Jane had told him Daria had dragged them to an Italian movie festival last week, but then again, she must have seen those movies more than twice and wouldn't appreciate being forced to watch them with someone who was not an aficionado.

He had to settle for something worth-watching, but not worth thinking about enough to make them feel uncomfortable with each other. This was something new for him.

After he had finished with the living room, he sat himself down on the couch and moved his hands underneath the plush, to check for any unwanted items she could accidentally come across.

He was arrested by a sudden sharp edge which almost stabbed his finger. He pulled the blade swiftly from underneath and opened it in mid-air. It was a shaving razor blade. His dad's. He recognized it because it had the same worn out, familiar crusts on its yellow-stained handle. He gripped it in his hand like his father used to when he sat in front of the bathroom mirror at ten a.m. in the morning, talking to him about the trip he was going to take to town. He would go and sell his photos to a magazine again.

'The same again?' a ten-year old Trent had asked in hope. He wanted it to be the same magazine, because then his dad could take him to their offices later in the afternoon and the rooms there were always so colourful and full of all sorts of pictures and cut-out ads and paintings of people yelling with laughter and women hugging their bodies while staring into the horizon wistfully. There were TV screens that never buzzed, they'd always be quiet ("on mute", his father would say), and they'd never have the news, or weather, or sports, only commercials, silent, beautiful commercials of women and boys enjoying life away from him. He'd love seeing all of that again, all of that life gathered in one small corner of the town. There was always movement and there was never patience and he found it such a refreshing change from the deathly slow pace of his childhood home, filled with people who barely ever talked or did anything.

'Afraid not, Trent. New one. Better offer for my babies though,' his father replied, smiling sheepishly behind a cloud of white foam.

'New one? Oh...okay, I guess, but the old one was nice too,' he argued.

'Sure it was, sport, but don't you want me to buy you that awesome ukulele you wanted for your birthday?' he said, bending down to his size.

Trent mulled over his words.

'Wind wanted the ukulele, not me,' he replied.

His father stared at him blankly, as if he had said a non-sequitur.

'You'll both have it. You can share it,' he argued, getting up again.

'Can I come with, today?' Trent asked instead.

'Oh, I don't know sport. Don't know if they allow children here. It's a bigger building, you see. _Cooler_ magazine.'

Ten-year old Trent shivered. The word 'cool' had never sounded more jarring than now. It felt like a hurtful word. If he wasn't allowed to go see it, why was it _cooler_?

'Hey Amanda!' his dad yelled. 'Did Trent get any breakfast?'

His mother, who was currently sleeping soundly in her bed did not reply.

'Huh, guess she's not awake yet. Figures, she spent hours on the phone with that woman again.'

'Who did mom talk to?' Trent asked, curious.

'You know, that neighbour lady. The one with the three-piece-suit suit, sugarless coffee in her hand and a new boyfriend every single night. The all American clean-cut yuppie going to work feeling on top of the world,' his father replied, sniggering.

'You're upset with her?' Trent asked, sensing the mocking tone in his father's voice.

'Not upset, sport, why would I be? She's a great lady. But she's got these "modern ideas", capitalist drivel she keeps filling your mother's head with. She's jealous of your mom, cuz your mom's content and, let's face it, she's not really happy. Not really.'

Then after a pause:

'Aren't you glad we didn't send you to a kindergarten? That place would mess you kids up.'

The question had come so suddenly and out of nowhere that Trent could only nod his head in agreement, not really knowing what he was agreeing to but feeling confident that his ultra-hip, wise, "in touch" father would know what he was talking about.

'What did that lady want?' he asked, recalling having seen the woman in question a couple of times at the supermarket and at the movies with all sorts of men.

'Ah, she keeps telling your mom to send Jane to kindergarten so she could have more 'her' time,' he said, waving his hand dismissively.

'Janey, away from home?' Trent asked, slightly bewildered.

'I know, sport. No idiot would send his three-year old to some godforsaken place in town for eight hours and just _leave_ her there, like she's a piece of meat. Leave her at _home_ alone? Sure, she's at home. But in a _strange_ place like that? No way in hell. Sure, kids have to be on their own sometimes, but they gotta be on their own _here_.'

A small protest was building up in Trent's throat. _Here_ was not really safe either. _Here_ was not _strange_, but it was not _safe_. He had been left alone many times. He had even been locked out once, during the night, when he'd forgotten to come inside from his tent. How was that any better?

Just because you had a _here_ didn't mean it was safe to be there. Sure, he liked his home better than any others, but would he let Janey go to kindergarten? Well, if he had to pick between her being alone here and her being alone there, he figured there was probably a bit better.

He felt conflicted. He shouldn't want his sister out of the house, but there it was.

'Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. When she's older,' he added after a while. 'She could meet other kids.'

'She has a whole family of kids,' he joked, laughing to himself. 'I think she's got all the kids she needs here.'

'Yeah...' Trent agreed, smiling. He liked to hear his father's laughter.

After he was done, his dad placed the razor blade between his fingers.

'You'll be a little man, soon,' he said wistfully and for the first time in years, his eyes focused on Trent and Trent alone and the little boy felt that his dad was finally really looking at him.

But it vanished as quickly as it happened. He had risen and he was already walking away, banging the bathroom door behind him, leaving the blade in the hands of a ten-year old.

Six years later, he had run into that neighbour of his, "the all American clean-cut yuppie" of his childhood. She was now around thirty-eight years old, still incredibly attractive and just as spirited and full of energy and ambition as she was six years ago. She had projects, many, many projects she was going to get done, vacation plans, some new friends and some good memories from places she had seen. And most importantly, she was moving out. She had been promoted.

They had met on her last week in town, as poetic as it would seem to him later. It had been one of his first gigs ever. Before the Spiral, there had been the Lawndale Media and Arts Centre's own "Heart Beats". The Lawndale Media and Arts Centre had turned into a new library three years later, but back then, it was still up and running, because the middle-aged people of the town hadn't yet become old.

"Heart Beats" lasted three more months after the Centre quietly vanished. They were a _Beach Boys_ band with a great deal of idealism and enthusiasm and they were made up of forty-year olds who loved music and "beats that make the heart run faster" as they would say, hence the reason for their name.

Trent had heard of them through a friend who had turned down the job. Apparently, they needed a bass player. His friend had not wanted to play with a bunch of 'creepy, old dudes' but the offer immediately appealed to Trent, who loved old acts and who really needed the money.

So, against all odds, he found himself playing at the Lawndale Media and Arts Centre one evening as part of the beloved "Heart Beats" and as the only under-age person in the band and at the entire party.

He had told everyone there, including the band members, that he was eighteen, because he already looked much older than sixteen and he figured he had enough experience to make himself a grown-up for one night.

Seeing as this was his first real gig and that everything depended on him giving the best performance he could give, he was a packet of nerves. His childish mind thought he might get noticed by some important artist or musician. Not that Lawndale had any, but the Centre's members did have some connections outside this town.

Well, he did get noticed. By Marlene Fitch. The yuppie next-door neighbour.

She was standing near the stage, wearing a very becoming violet dress that accentuated the softness of her curves and the beauty of her shimmering white skin. She was quite a sight. Her eyes were black and maybe a bit expressionless, but there was so much hidden in that smile, in the roundness of her cheek as she smirked towards the stage.

He'd been used to his father (and his mother, eventually) saying how she was a complete boor. An uninteresting woman whose only purpose was to go through life meaninglessly.

Now that she was here though, just beyond his reach, so close he could actually hear her talking, she seemed like the most interesting person at the party.

It didn't take long for them to be introduced by the band's vocalist, Todd Hoover, a happy-go-lucky forty-five year old dad who was "gonna go check on Maggie while I let you two talk".

They exchanged pleasantries and Marlene remarked how she'd seen him many times with his siblings and his family. She asked about his mother. There was concern in her voice. She hadn't heard from her in a while now – they had drifted apart – was she okay? But Trent knew this was only her being polite. Six years had passed. They didn't keep tabs anymore. This was just a 'let me place you in my memory' routine. And he knew they had to go through that first. He told her he was in school, a senior. He was going to apply to Berkeley University this year, technology degree. All this was a pleasant hoax to get things running between the two.

'So far away from home?' she had asked.

'That's the goal,' he said, grinning earnestly.

'Well, you're an ambitious Lane. I like that very much.'

He had gone up on stage again to finish the set and after the party was over they went to a bar to have some drinks. Trent's fake ID finally came in hand. He had had no opportunity to use it so far and he was glad he could do it now.

Once again, they didn't exactly talk. He desperately wanted to know more about her, about her job, her promotion, her departure, her life before Lawndale, her boyfriends, but all they seemed to be able to talk about was the Media and Arts Centre, "Heart Beats" and how everyone in this town was dead before they even turned twenty.

It was like a blur, that conversation. It had lasted for two hours and yet nothing had been said. He knew they were distracted, distracted by that strange hunger in their eyes that had not let them ignore each other and focus on the words.

They had crashed at her place, because "casa Lane" was definitely off-limits, for _any_ girls, especially women.

It had been his first time, but in retrospect, it hadn't felt like it. It had felt strangely exercised and well-done, not at all sloppy or awkward, but that must have been all thanks to her, Marlene, the _real_ woman.

Sure it hadn't lasted long, but it had been _something_ while it had lasted. His head between her breasts while she sipped from a cup of cold, refrigerator beer, he felt like a ten-year old boy again, even if they were naked and their sweats were not anything he'd smelt of as a child.

'I know you're actually sixteen. So I might regret this,' she finally said.

Trent squirmed a little, but didn't raise his head.

'But these are my last days in town. I can afford to let myself go a little,' she argued. 'And you didn't seem to mind.'

'Because I didn't,' he replied quickly. 'And I don't regret this.'

He could feel her smiling as she stroked his head.

'I hope you do get to be a senior, though. And go to whatever school you want. Cuz you're right, the goal _is_ to get out of here,' she said, looking towards her window briefly.

'This place is welcoming in the beginning,' she continued, 'but it starts to suck off your energy, bit by bit. All the make-believe I have to play around here is like trying to make a family happy.'

'That's cuz you care too much,' was Trent's typical adolescent reply.

'Strange, because I try my hardest to care as little as possible and people can attest I'm one of the most "detached" people in this town.'

'I used to see you around all the time when I was a kid, you were always so... happy and vibrant. My dad despised you, I think. Well, he didn't like you either way. But he doesn't like anyone who isn't...enlightened. Is that the right word?'

'I think so,' she replied, pausing between words to catch some new thought she had remembered.

'I was really good friends with your mom, Amanda. She had so much potential, a real talent in the business field. She was so sweet and calm and level-headed, no one could resist her. It's too bad I couldn't really do anything for her.'

'She stopped selling stuff five years ago,' he told her soberly. 'She's travelling across the country or with dad sometimes. Mostly with the Renaissance fairs.'

'There's no shame in being a sales agent, you know. Sometimes I felt she was ashamed. But she loved the outdoors, loved the people she met, loved her product enough to really give herself to it. I don't get what happened that she suddenly turned into this...tired little woman, ashamed of everyone and everything.'

'She didn't have much drive to begin with,' Trent told her. 'She liked the idea of...working for herself, but not _working_ really.'

'Not working really?...I don't know, she seemed really involved,' Marlene said.

'She was, but I don't think she really wanted to be...maybe she just wanted to please you,' he said boldly.

Marlene raised herself slightly on her elbow and stared him in the eyes.

'Why would she want that?'

Trent smiled. His fingers caressed her perfectly symmetrical face.

'Well, just look at you... Everyone would want to...please you,' he said, half-joking, half in earnest.

'Look at _you_, young and stupid. You're going to fall in love with some girl and forget all about me,' she suddenly said.

Trent was caught off guard. He didn't know how to reply.

'Relax,' she said, laughing. 'I don't want you to hold on to me. I don't want us to keep tabs on each other, or call each other every weekend or something horrible like that. We're not going to catch up every month. No. Maybe I'll visit someday. But not very soon. I only meant you're going to forget this night. And that you were ever involved with me. And it's funny because I'll never forget having slept with someone who could be my son. But for you, it's a lot easier.'

'How is it easier? Why do you think I'd ever forget it? You're Marlene...I was already crushing on you when I was thirteen.'

Marlene kissed him softly. 'You know, Trent, you remind me of _The Graduate_. I'm Mrs. Robinson... But you'll meet your Elaine soon.'

In the silence that followed these words, Trent struggled to remember if he had seen the movie and to keep focused while he was falling over her body, again and again.

'Yo, do you plan on committing a Roman suicide?' a voice suddenly pulled him out of his memories.

Jane was hovering over him with a smirk on her face, looking down at the razor blade in his hand.

'Nah, just something I found under the couch,' he said, beating the back with his hands.

'Huh, that thing was lying around there all this time? Now I gotta take a shower.'

Trent chuckled. 'I wouldn't blame you.'

'Wait, something's not right. Did you...clean up around here?' she asked, looking around, completely mystified.

'No, the cleaning fairies did it,' he replied rolling his eyes.

He got up. 'I gotta go to the store to buy some stuff.'

'Stuff?' Jane asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Yeah, some food. And some stuff. You know...' he trailed off, walking towards the door. 'I'll be back in a bit.'

He didn't see Jane staring after him in suspicion.

But now he knew what movie he wanted to watch tonight.

* * *

It had taken him a while to get back, though, so that 'bit' had turned into a whole hour. First off, the traffic had been worse than usual because there had been an accident down town and apparently no one was seriously injured, but the cars were severely damaged. He had got all this from an elderly lady walking by who had stopped him and told him not to go any further.

He understood. Accidents of any kind in Lawndale were few and far between, so when they did happen, they were treated like life-altering events.

When he had finally reached the video store he found every copy of _The_ _Graduate_ already rented out. How the hell had that happened? I mean what were the odds that this would happen the same afternoon he had planned his thing with Daria?

He felt bad for calling it a thing but whenever Daria was involved he was afraid to give appellatives.

'Come on, help me out here, there's gotta be one copy left somewhere...' he begged the clerk at the front desk.

'Sorry, dude, you're out of luck today. Come back tomorrow...or maybe next week, we'll have it then.'

'Isn't there like an extra copy you keep in your storage room?'

The clerk raised an eyebrow. 'You mean I have to check the entire storage room just for one movie?'

'I'll do it with you if it helps.'

'Look, man, I've got some good movies with the same...ah, theme. If you're into that. Young dude, old chick, I've got'em all there,' he said pointing at a curtain down the aisle where he knew the porn collection was stashed.

Trent almost lost his temper.

'Just give me the key, I'll go search for it myself.'

'Jesus, man, chill out! This is not North Korea, okay?'

'I am totally calm,' he argued.

'Yeah, I can see that,' the clerk snapped, rolling his eyes. 'Jesus, all you hotheads.'

They had eventually come across one spare copy of _The Graduate_ stashed between _Rain Man_ and a movie called _Wag the Dog_. Trent couldn't believe his luck. He knew someone out there had taken pity on him.

He was about to leave the store, when the clerk stopped him silently and grabbed the tape out of his hands.

'Hold on, man, lemme check if it works. If it's in the storage room, means it's a broken version. Lemme see...'

He went all the way to the back again and inserted it in the Video Player expectantly.

There were some glitches and blackouts here and there but the movie seemed alright. The sound was a bit off, but Trent figured he could do something about that at home.

'I'll take it. I just gotta go. I'm running late,' he said looking down at his wrist. No watch there as always.

The clerk scratched his chin confused.

'Why'd you look at your empty wrist? It can't tell the time you know.'

'I know, but whenever I get the urge to look at my invisible watch, it means I'm already running late,' he explained.

The guy measured him up and down in what Trent believed was a look of approval.

'You're good to go,' he said, handing him the tape.

'Thanks,' he muttered and rushed out of there, going out into the clear, crisp evening air.

* * *

When he neared the house he saw that the only light on was in Penny's bedroom. He smiled to himself. She was home.

He was going to park at his usual spot and maybe stop his engine a bit slower, to make his presence known, so she wouldn't be taken by surprise. But he knew that his car could be heard from miles away anyways. It was sometimes a comfort, sometimes a nuisance.

He realized that he was out of gas. Just in time.

What he didn't realize was that another car had taken his usual parking spot.

He got out of the car slowly, in a daze, holding onto the video tape like it was the rail of a bridge.

He recognized it, Tom's car.

The evening wasn't going his way at all. Things were beginning to veer into an ugly territory he did not want to trespass. But he saw he had no choice.

He stepped inside his own house like a stranger. He almost wished now his parents were home, although he had never wanted them there before. His dad would walk past him like a shadow and his mother's figure would linger in the doorway, calling them to give them another one of her pearls of advice: "Make sure you love everyone even when they don't love you back, that's when you will be complete. When there's no one left you don't love."

He heard voices upstairs. Tom's and Daria's. He walked up to her room, dreading the worse, dreading what he knew was probably better for her though. Sure, Tom was an inconsistent asshole, but he probably loved Daria and he had things going for him, he had a goal in life, he had good parents, a pretty solid future and enough cultural references to keep Daria entertained for a while.

'...not like I don't know what it's like, though. It's not always so great living with people who expect me to be the best at every damn thing I do,' Tom was telling her.

'They'd probably expect you to do nothing better than most people,' she commented.

Tom laughed. 'It's the only field in which I don't disappoint.'

'Stop complaining. You know you'll get into Bromwell,' she told him.

They were already talking college, Trent thought in dismay.

'Yeah, or my father and mother will. _Again_,' he said.

'At least you're aware of your privileges,' she argued.

'Eh, I am reminded from time to time. But I don't _do_ anything about them. I just let life run past me. I just say yes to everything. I don't take any action,' Tom said.

Trent felt a strange sense of understanding between him and Tom. He knew what he meant. He understood him. There was always something about Tom that made him a lot more human than Trent wanted him to be. And it made it very hard for him to really hate Tom. Maybe his mother was right in her madness, maybe everyone should just love each other senselessly and there would never be real intimacy between two people.

'Relax. Taking action is easy,' Daria began. 'Sticking with it is harder. It's easy to think you can do something, you can make a change in your life and turn things around. And sure, you even take the first step. But at the first obstacle, you tend to back down. You're discouraged. We sometimes never get further than the first step.'

Trent looked down at the copy of _The Graduate_ he was holding. He thought about Daria and his life and his first step. No one had actually filmed his first step, because his parents weren't the type, had never been the type. And he was glad, really.

Maybe his first step had been living alone, maybe it had been Janey coming into his life, maybe it had been his first gig, his Marlene, his dad's razor blade, his brother's ukulele he never got for his birthday, his first band, his first electric guitar, his first feeling of awareness, of his existence. But he had never moved past that one step that he had taken almost unconsciously. He was stuck between Daria and a future so new and undiscovered in front of him.

'If that's the case, I don't want that to happen to me, Daria. I hate that it already has probably, in many respects. I don't want to be stuck between the first step and...the _future_.'

Trent was shaken by how much he and Tom resembled.

'I think...I think we're always walking in circles, around that first step, hoping bit by bit that we're getting further than where we started,' she said at one point.

'And do we?' Tom asked bitterly.

'Well, it's our only way of moving forward, so yeah, even if it's just make-believe, I guess we do,' Daria replied.

'So, what you're saying is we just keep making that first step bigger and bigger,' Tom concluded.

'There's nothing wrong with that as long as we're moving, just a _little_,' she commented quietly.

How did she do it, Trent wondered, how did she make everything feel better again? How did she silence his anxiety bit by bit? Maybe it was just an illusion like she said, but her words, taken for granted or just as a way of ignoring reality, were more soothing than anything his parents had ever said to him.

'Okay, I want to move a _little_ too, Daria,' Tom suddenly said. 'There's no harm in it, like you said.'

As if on cue, Daria's voice became colder and more to the point.

'It's getting sort of late, shouldn't you get back at the party? I'm sure Jane is wondering.'

'It's only been ten min - Oh, eh, guess we got carried away.'

'Well, you should go. Jane...'

'Course, I only...Well, she knows I came by to fetch her clothes, but I couldn't just come and not say hi. That would've been pretty strange, don't you think?'

And Trent felt this was _his_ cue. Why would his sister need extra clothes? What had happened to her?

He didn't barge in, but his entrance wasn't exactly subtle either.

'I'm going to assume Jane is still at your place,' were his first words to him.

'Trent! H-hi...' Tom began, rising precipitately from his chair.

Daria's eyes widened considerably.

'Trent, you're back,' she said, her voice unusually high. 'Where've you been?'

'Around,' he said, not taking his eyes off of Tom. 'You haven't answered my question.'

'Jane is at my house, Trent, she's safe. She..._accidentally_ jumped into the pool, cuz you know Jane, so she asked me if I could fetch some clothes for her. I told her I'd give her some of mom's but she was strangely against it.'

'I wonder why,' Trent said more to himself.

'So, need help getting the clothes?' he asked, looking towards Daria.

'Ah, no I saw Daria was all alone and...' Tom trailed off.

'You thought you should say hi. I heard. If I hadn't come in though, what would you have said?'

They both froze, as if Trent was a hunter and they were the game.

Only, Daria didn't look guilty, just slightly shaken, as if someone was invading her privacy, but Tom looked ready to be taken to the gallows.

'Come on, I'll help you with Jane's clothes,' Trent muttered, walking out of Penny's bedroom. He heard Tom's light footsteps following him down the hall as he made his way to Jane's dark room.

He pushed open the door and turned on the lights. Almost mechanically, he pulled a large grey bag underneath the bed. That's where Jane actually kept her clothes. The drawers 'scared the shit out of her' as she would say.

He rummaged through piles of pants and T-Shirts and found some comfy night wear for her. Tom was standing in the doorway, looking ready to be swollen by the carpet. Behind his back, Daria approached quietly.

This felt like a sudden war raid. Everyone was fearing an attack.

'Is she going to sleep there tonight or does she need me to drive her back?' Trent asked in what he assumed was a severe tone and for the first time in his life, he sounded like an actual adult, an older brother. It was too bad he couldn't actually drive Jane back tonight.

'Oh...I think she's going to sleep there,' Tom began warily, 'but if she changes her mind I will drive her back imme-'

'Tell her to call me first, if she makes a decision,' he said, leaving no room for argument.

'Of course.'

He grabbed a duffle bag he saw lying on the floor and stuffed the clothes inside.

'Wait here,' he said while he ran to the bathroom to get her toothbrush.

Daria went after him.

'Trent, slow down a little...' she began.

'Can't,' he said, after a pause. He returned with the toothbrush.

'You didn't have to...We have plenty...' Tom said, pointing at it.

'It's better to have your _own_,' Trent argued.

'Right, sure.'

'Anything else I should pack?' Trent almost snapped.

'No, I think that's pretty much...everything. Thanks a lot, Trent,' Tom said, moving away from the door slowly.

'Is Daria coming with?' he suddenly asked.

Daria shot him a look that he chose to ignore at the time being.

'W-What?'

'Well, you probably invited her to the party, right?' Trent assumed.

'He asked me, but I said no, _obviously_,' Daria suddenly spoke. 'And I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about me as if I weren't here.'

Trent felt the hairs on his back stinging his skin.

'I only asked out of politeness, seeing as she was all alone,' Tom defended himself.

He climbed down the stairs quickly.

'Well, I'm going to leave you two then, get back to Jane...I'll tell her to call, Trent, I...' he trailed off, not knowing how to say goodbye in such awful circumstances.

His eyes travelled towards Daria's. In a moment of weakness, Daria looked back.

'I changed my mind. Tell Janey to come home in twenty minutes,' Trent suddenly said, walking up to him.

'Hold on, Trent, why would you...she's safe there, you know that...' Tom stammered confused.

'Because I don't want Janey staying one more night with someone who doesn't give a crap about her.'

The words rang like a bucket of ice-cold water on Tom's back.

'What the hell? I _do_ care about Jane,' Tom began fiercely.

'Yeah, too bad you care about Daria _more_,' he spat.

Tom opened his mouth to deny it, but the truth was written all over his face and the blatancy of this statement was hard to ignore, especially since weeks had gone by and Tom had worn the same expression on his face.

The aftermath of this imminent shock was one that left all three struggling to react. The most helpless was Tom, who had no leg left to stand on. He was growing quietly more and more desperate as he clung to the duffle bag.

'That's not true,' he said, nodding his head, instead of shaking it. His words were failing him.

'Daria...?' he called her name, uncertain, but hopeful, looking towards her like a man who can't really look in a mirror.

'Here's your chance to move _a_ _little_. All the way to your car,' she replied curtly.

'Daria, you know me, I do _care_ about Jane, this is a misunderstanding.'

'I don't know you. And you don't know me. We're bound to be misunderstood, you see.'

Tom lowered his head in dismay.

'I do care...about both of you,' he whispered more to himself.

And for a brief moment, Trent actually felt bad for Tom and he was sure Daria felt the same too. He didn't feel pity because pity only bred contempt, but he felt like he knew where Tom was coming from. He inevitably softened.

'If you do the right thing, Jane will understand,' Trent told him.

But he could already see Tom struggling to figure out what the right thing really was for him at the moment.

'I will,' he said staring at Daria. 'I'll try.'

With that, he opened the door and walked out like a prisoner who just wanted to go back to jail, instead of being free.

Daria and Trent sat very still as they listened to him starting the engine and leaving the street.

When he was already out of earshot, Trent turned towards Daria.

'Well, what are you waiting for?' she asked, slightly resentful. 'Let's go get Jane back.'

'Uh, yeah, about that...' Trent began.

'What?'

'I'm out of gas.'

'Seriously? Now?'

'Afraid so.'

'Crap. What now? Tom will drive her back?'

'I think she'll take a cab. I don't think Tom's going to want to come here again tonight,' he said, massaging his nape.

He felt a bit stupid hearing himself say that. One moment ago he was acting like an adult, responsible, in control. Now he was back to square one.

Daria sighed.

'Great. I left the hotel to escape Quinn and her teenage drama and I come here and...well, you get the picture.'

'I know. Not the evening I imagined either.'

'You didn't have to make such a big scene. I could have handled Tom myself, without the unnecessary...emotions,' she said, trying to be calm, although she couldn't exactly hide the tremor in her voice.

'Really? Cuz it didn't look that way to me when you were together in your room.'

'You were eavesdropping?'

'I couldn't help overhearing.'

'And what did you hear exactly? I wasn't throwing myself at him, was I?'

'No, but he was,' he argued.

Daria rolled her eyes.

'Tom doesn't even know what he wants. Or how he feels.'

'I'm pretty sure he does.'

'Look, he doesn't really like me that way. He and Jane are going through a rough patch. They're both bored with each other. So he's inventing excuses for himself. He can't accept it's their fault so he thinks he has a crush on his girlfriend's friend. Instead of facing the problem, he keeps convincing himself he has..._other_ feelings.'

Trent had always admired Daria's direct manner of talking, always more honest and blunt than what was required, without any euphemisms or excuses. But he couldn't blindly agree to her now, no matter how much sense she was making.

'So, you're just going to deny it because it's more comfortable to think Tom doesn't like you, that he's just bored. Well, I'm sorry, but he does have a thing for you and it won't stop just because you think he doesn't.'

'How are you so sure he has a thing for me?' Daria snapped.

'Come on, Daria. Modesty isn't your thing. It's obvious. You're not exactly...hard to have a thing for.'

'So not the time for this, Trent,' she began.

'Well, it's better than most times, isn't it? You're always telling people to be truthful and look for the truth, but you're denying it when it's right in front of you. That's not fair.'

He turned around and made his way into the kitchen. He needed a drink like he needed air. He heard Daria climb upstairs and slam the door to Penny's bedroom. He would have made a weak argument how this was his house and she should not just walk away from a conversation, but then he'd sound too much like an embittered father, scolding his child for coming home late.

He realized, as he gulped down the funny-tasting orange juice from the carton, that he no longer held _The Graduate_.

Where had he put it? He wracked his brains trying to remember where he had left it.

'Janey's room,' came the simple answer.

He sat on his sister's bed for what seemed like hours, staring almost hypnotized at a painting she had started two days ago. It was a man's face, from what he could tell, but needles and splinters were coming out of his wrinkles and nostrils, making him look strangely jovial despite the pain he was probably feeling.

The image didn't sit well with him. It reminded him of Janey's first day of school. She had yelled so loud the morning he had had to pull her out of bed, almost as if he had pulled out her teeth.

She was seven and her dad was out of the country, her mother was at a conference in Dallas about the use of crystals to enhance inner harmony and her brothers and sisters were out trying to fix their lives, bringing all their emotional baggage at home.

Trent had to drive her to school too. It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

He had wanted to hug her when she stepped out of the car, but at the last moment she had turned around and run away.

Now he was wondering whether he shouldn't go out and get some gas and drive to Tom's house and get her out of there, bring her here, talk to her, tell her the truth, apologize for his mistakes and promise her that everything would be just as it was in the morning.

But if he told her the truth, he couldn't promise her the last part.

That's the way with truths, they have a way of getting in the way of that comforting last part.

He understood why Daria couldn't –

'Hey...Trent.'

She was standing in the doorway, her head bent down and her hands holding her elbows.

'I'm sorry...about before. I kept thinking about it and I didn't listen to you. I thought I knew better. You do have a point, though. I don't. I don't exactly know what's going on.'

'Well,' he began, feeling the weight on his shoulders a bit lighter, 'whatever it is, no one said you meant for it to happen. At least _I_ didn't.'

'I know. Thanks for that. For not doubting me.'

'Do you...' he began.

'Do I what?'

'Do you care if I doubt you?'

Daria was taken aback. She mulled over his words for a moment or two.

'I guess I do. I don't want you thinking I chose to lie to myself.'

Trent smiled.

'Wouldn't dream of it.'

'I don't want your good opinion, though. I want your _real_ opinion,' she insisted.

'You mean, you want me to think of you as you really are?'

'Exactly.'

'That's pretty hard.'

'I know.'

'It takes some time too.'

'I know that too.'

Trent smiled again as he looked towards Jane's painting. Who's to say that man wasn't what he, Trent, was really all about? Needles and splinters.

'Do you wanna...grab a bite to eat? I'm starving.'

'Well, I have not eaten in...' she said looking at her empty wrist, 'in four hours so yeah, I definitely broke a record here.'

Trent chuckled.

'Why'd you look at your empty wrist?'

'Cuz whenever I feel like checking the time like that I realize I haven't eaten in a while,' she explained in all seriousness.

'I like your method. So do you want to order or...'

'Order sounds good.'

'And maybe watch some TV? A movie perhaps?' he continued on a hopeful note.

Daria arched her brows.

'Movie, huh? What did you have in mind?'

He looked down at _The Graduate_, tucked underneath a blanket.

He was about to take it out when he stopped suddenly, and dropped it on the bed again. He realized that this wasn't what he and Daria really wanted to watch.

That's just what Marlene and he had in common. Nothing more, nothing less. This was his past. Sure it was memorable, but not worth remembering right now. It wasn't a question of Mrs. Robinson or Elaine. He would choose neither, because he had something else in the present now. Daria.

'Well, I know Jame Tivo-ed that last Sick Sad World marathon. It's bound to be here somewhere...' he said, pushing the video tape back into the blanket.

'Sounds like a plan. I'll go order, you find the marathon,' Daria said.

* * *

This was their last attempt to save a night of chaos. Well, maybe 'save' was stretching it a bit, but they were clinging to their TV dinner as hard as Tom had to the duffle bag, but it was a break from the unavoidably complex situation of Tom and Jane.

They wanted to be Daria and Trent, separate from Tom and Jane. Maybe it was selfish, but although neither of them could readily admit to it, they felt they owed it to themselves.

'I see you've cleaned up the place for a change,' Daria said as she sat down on the couch next to him.

'How'd you know it was me?' he asked, pleased.

'Please. The only thing Jane ever cleans is an entire pie of pizza,' she commented.

'Can't argue with that.'

Trent put the tape in and let it play. The contagiously cheerful voice of the Sick Sad World announcer erupted through the screen as they both grabbed a slice of pizza. They had ordered five, just in case.

'Would you rather get a bullet in the head or punch a bullet _with_ your head? Get ready for more questions on _the Sick Sad World Marathon_!'

'They forgot the third option, get a bullet to punch a bullet,' she commented.

Trent laughed. 'I'd pay good money to see that.'

The first segment of the show involved a cat who had given birth to a half-human, half-cat hybrid and they were now searching for the biological father.

'Is the next cat rapist lurching in _your_ neighbourhood? Well, tell him he has to pay kitty alimony now!'

'I can only assume Mr. Demartino has found a new hobby,' Daria commented.

'Nah, are you kidding me? It's that creep O'Neil. When I was around, he used to keep tiny string balls in his pockets just for fun.'

Daria laughed. 'How did I not know that?'

'Trust me, that place was much weirder in the eighties.'

He was about to grab another slice of pizza when the sound of engines and brisk voices made them both start up.

It wasn't Tom. It was...

'Hel-ooo!'

'Mom,' Daria confirmed disappointed.

Trent was sad to watch her leave with her parents, especially since they had five more pizzas to go and a whole bunch of Sick Sad World episodes to watch and comment on. Not to mention, so many subjects to discuss besides that. So much time to waste. Stay up all night talking. Telling her about his dad and his mom and Wind's failed relationships.

Well, he should know better.

You make the first step and then you have to walk in circles around that first step until you move forward. Just a _little_.


	16. Chapter 16

***slowly pops out of her hiding place, dodging pitchforks* **

**Hey guys, I know it's been kind of forever, it has felt that way to me at least, and you can blame me for this prolonged pause because there's no one else, but my writer's block had a thing to do with it, if I may justify myself. Since we're slowly coming to the end of this fic I got a bit depressed because I really enjoy writing it, so my brain probably shut down in protest. Yeah, quite sappy. Anyhow, I'm back, having somehow defeated my mental collapse - well, who am I kidding, your amazing and thoughtful reviews were what really pulled me through, 100%. I've got some of the greatest readers out there and a really dedicated community, at least in this fandom, so yeah, huge, huge thanks for all the massive encouragement: **

**- Silver Ame Tsukino, SSJ04Mewtwo (I got the idea for Trent's past after reading _Revolutionary Road_, by Richard Yates, well I got inspired by the general feel of the book, also, not sure yet if I will continue with season five or the movie, but it's a big, big possibility****), livelongandpeaceout, Ophilia LeNoir (oh hey thanks for the correction there, damn I am bad with anachronisms, sorry about that, erm, let's pretend Trent just found some SSW tapes instead), Wolf-Maiden Mitsuki (wow, I didn't even realize that the metaphor paralleled fanfiction in general, that is amazing insight, seriously, this is why it is said readers write the story with the writers:)), Sun-chan1 (yes, Vincent was spectacularly bad, but he had some good intentions, here and there, in my opinion and I'm glad you liked Trent's history with Marlene. Also, you noticed they both looked at their empty wrists, I was hoping it would get noticed :)), Shiva the Sarcastic, RoziCanuti (happy you liked the background story for Trent, I sure did:)), Conqueror Worm (thank you so much for spending so much time on this story, very grateful and happy you like the ties with the show:)), k99 (thank you, really flattered and happy I managed to pull off some substance), MissVoiceLess (thanks for giving the story a chance, happy you like it), dominique, 3CG, Hollarious (vegetarian tacos sound great, especially since I'm not big on meat :) Thanks so much for the incredibly kind and funny review, it really touched my softest, mushiest spot and I felt I had somehow achieved part of my goal of honouring this show and these two characters which is what I intended all along - well, that and to fulfil my silly little fantasy of bringing them together, but I can't be blamed for that, the show makes a pretty good case for them and with some added help from my nefarious imagination... you get the point:) Thanks again for making a writer happy).**

**Wow, is that everyone? Did I leave someone out? If so, my apologies, my head is spinning from too much typing probably****, but you all know how much I love everyone of you.**

**So, as you have probably guessed, this episode will be in parts, much like Fire! and this is Part One, where the angst builds up a little more, kind of like Episode IV from Star Wars, except it's ten times less epic. Oh well, I really hope you like it. Please let me know :)**_  
_

_16: Dye, Dye, My Darling! (part I)_

'Janey? This is the third day... ' Trent said as he leant against her locked door.

No answer as usual, but he could tell she was inside. The soft movements of her body were too familiar to him.

'And while I appreciate a good hibernation like any other Lane, I think you should at least talk to me,' he continued in the same calm tone he had used for the past three days.

'I just want to know...if you're okay. I mean I know you're not. But at least physically...' he trailed off.

He heard something slam against a wall. Sounded like a paintbrush.

'I mean I know you're doing okay. I saw you sneaking up to the bathroom. I don't know how you got the Chinese food in there, though. The point is...'

But did he even know what the point was?

'I think you should come out. At least, come out and have some soup with me,' he blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

He could practically hear Jane shift on her bed in boredom. Or maybe it was surprise. He wondered if he should explain it wasn't a metaphor.

'Soup?' she croaked suddenly.

He was startled. The first word she had said to him in a long while.

He smiled.

'Yeah, instant soup.'

'Instant soup?' she echoed.

'I found some left in Penny's supply cabinet.'

There was a long pause in which he heard Jane put on her clothes. It disturbed him that he could tell, but that was sibling bond for you.

'Wasn't that locked?' she asked eventually.

'Yeah, it was. I don't think she'll be able to lock it again though...'

'You broke the lock?'

'More like broke the cabinet.'

'She will kill you, you know.'

'I think I have a good chance of living.'

'Right. Keep deluding yourself,' she muttered morosely.

'So, care for some soup then?' he asked again, feeling hopeful.

'No,' she replied instantly.

'But...something about soup must have raised your interest. I mean, you talked.'

'Do you want me not to talk?'

'Come on, Janey, don't be like this. You know I've been begging you to talk.'

'No one asked you.'

'Uh, no one had to. Geez you can be pretty dumb sometimes.'

'I am not up for your insults, Trent. And don't even get me started on _your_ levels of intelligence.'

'Fair enough,' he agreed. 'I don't want to fight. I just want you to...come out and have some soup.'

'No.'

'Do I have to sit here for four hours again?'

'Yesterday you fell asleep.'

'Well, it gets pretty boring.'

'I won't have any soup, Trent,' she insisted.

'You know I can use my brute force on this door, like I did on Penny's cabinet.'

Jane laughed. He was startled again.

'No, you won't.'

'Is that a challenge?'

'No. Look, Trent... I think I've been pretty obvious. I don't want to see anyone right now.'

'You're being overly dramatic.'

'Yeah well, I haven't done that in a while so I thought this would be a good time.'

He placed his palm on the door, as if he could somehow reach her and shake her shoulder.

'Daria called again,' he said mechanically. He was getting tired of that sentence.

'She would _really_ like to talk to you,' he added. Again, something he had been saying a lot recently.

'Tell her I'm fine and that I need to be alone. Which you could have figured out on your own.'

'She's really worried. She thinks it's her fault.'

'What is?'

'Whatever is going on with you...' he trailed off.

'Like you two don't already know.'

'Well, is it her fault?' Trent asked, dreading the worst.

He heard another voice in her room. She had turned on the television. Trent shut his eyes in resignation. It was her cue. She wouldn't talk anymore for the day.

* * *

Around three o'clock Trent received the daily Daria phone call. The minute she got home from school she would make sure to check on Jane and Trent's progress.

'It's obvious she will only come out on her own terms. She can be as stubborn as a mule,' Daria told him flatly, mid-conversation.

'Yeah, I would know. But what worries me most is the fact that...well, she doesn't seem to have a reaction to anything that's happened.'

'Do _we_ even know what happened? We can only make assumptions,' Daria corrected him.

'Come on, it's pretty obvious; we both agreed Tom must have broken up with her.'

'And probably mentioned me while he was doing it, otherwise Jane wouldn't be so against seeing me, yes,' Daria added, groaning into the phone. 'But I still think there's a lot more to it, though. This isn't your typical angry Jane. She is far too quiet, too docile.'

'What did I say? No reaction,' Trent concurred, going back to his previous statement. 'She's like a walking zombie.'

Daria paused into the phone.

'That's a bit of an overstatement, zombies already walk,' she commented, trying to distract herself.

'Nah, if Jane were a zombie, she wouldn't just walk. That's what I'm telling you...'

'That makes no sense, Trent. Although I appreciate your inappropriate sense of humour, ill-timed as it may be.'

'What humour? I'm just trying to stay sane.'

'You're overreacting.'

'Between you, Jane and Tom, I feel like I could explode in a moment. There's probably a good song in there too,' he added.

'You feel you could explode? Why didn't you tell me before...?'

'Forget it, just some random shit I say sometimes.'

'No, you meant it. You aren't this coherent when you're being 'random'. And I should know.'

'You said I was overreacting.'

'Well, I take it back. Anything else I should know about your precarious mental state?'

'Yeah...what does precarious mean?'

Daria rolled her eyes in disbelief.

'Just messing with you,' he said quickly, appeasing her.

'We're getting nowhere. I'm going to go see him,' Daria interrupted him.

'No! I already told you no way,' Trent intervened quickly.

'_Lane_, if Jane is giving us the silent treatment, I might as well go straight to the source,' she argued.

'I am not letting you go see that dumbass. He's done enough as it is.'

'You know better than I that he isn't nearly as villainous as we make him out. And last time I checked, I don't need your permission.'

Trent shut his eyes in frustration.

_Damn it, Morgendorffer!_

He would be stupid not to agree that Tom wasn't really the bad guy in all of this. He had never really believed this, not even in his darkest moments, not even when he had eavesdropped on him and Daria. Tom had always come off as a frightened, overly idealistic kid, trying to blend his own skewered sense of reality with the pragmatism and cold-blood inherent to his environment. In many respects, he was a much more down-to-earth version of Trent, with the added bonus of having a clear mind and a cutting intelligence to go with, two things Trent tried to stifle whenever possible.

And yet, no amount of pity or sympathy for this guy could persuade Trent to let Daria talk to him. Now that he was probably free and happy to pursue her, Tom would most likely take advantage of this opportunity, even while trying to help. And Trent couldn't allow this after all the progress he and Daria had made, after the time and feelings he had invested in this hybrid of a relationship.

'You're right, you don't, because it's not needed. I'll talk to him. And that's final,' Trent told her steadily, leaving no room for argument.

Daria must have secretly preferred this, because she didn't really put up a fight, resuming her arguments with the usual necessary disarming observations on how this entire mess was a product of latent adolescent idiocy.

Trent smiled into the phone. Damn it, he really liked her.

* * *

Leaving Jane home alone was probably one of his most reckless decisions yet, but under the current circumstances there was little he could do to prevent this situation. He had tried contacting their mother, in the hopes that she would at least make an unexpected appearance in the midst of this turmoil, but he had given up when he had realized she would only wreak more havoc with her incessant new-age babble about communication and trust.

Before leaving, he had knocked on Jane's door, letting her know he would leave for practice.

'Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair so you can come out of your room. I left the soup in the kitchen... in case you get a craving. Sorry about...bugging you so much. It's what I have to do. So I'll be gone. Do something fun,' he blabbered nervously, listening to the sounds coming from her room carefully.

Janey, as far as he could tell, was sitting on her bed, tapping her foot lightly against the wooden board.

'Alright then, see ya,' he said awkwardly and walked downstairs.

* * *

The vague but vivid memories of the night spent in his car with Daria in front of Tom's house had helped him find his way back to that neighbourhood, though he had had to summon all his brain-power to make certain connections during the daylight (since everything looked different at night) and avoid giving up on the drive half-way through. He kept thinking Tom wouldn't be home, that he'd be someplace else, hiding away like Jane, or that he would not be home from school, shacked up in some anonymous suburban bar.

Eventually, he managed to find the mansion, but only because he recognized the kind dentist's house first and put the pieces together in his head.

He knocked on the front door and waited patiently, glancing around in discomfort at the garden gates shining brightly in the sunshine and the intricate carvings of the upper balconies.

To his great surprise, a young girl opened the door. She didn't look older than sixteen.

A small, contemptuous smirk was plastered on her face as she scanned him from head to toe with a perverse glint in her eye.

'I don't care what you're selling, you can come in and make yourself at home,' she drawled listlessly, leaning against the doorway like a lazy cat.

'I'm not selling anything – '

'Even better. You must be lost then, because you certainly don't belong in this neighbourhood. In which case, I could easily hire you.'

'What for?' he asked in complete confusion.

'Oh, I could find you the perfect use,' she trailed off, undressing him with her eyes. 'Ever heard of afternoon delights?'

Trent wrinkled his nose. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed her blatant advances but he had hoped she was just joking.

'Too bad I can't be of service. I'm here to see Tom Sloane.'

'Tom? There's no Tom here. Especially no Sloane,' she lied cheerfully. 'Only poor, little me.'

'In that case, I'll be leaving you to yourself,' he spat, turning around annoyed.

Elsie, Tom's elusive and mischievous younger sister, quickly wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him back with a mewl.

'Don't go like that, it will hurt my feelings, really it will,' she said in a tone which indicated the opposite.

Trent quickly pushed her arms away, but this only made Elsie cling to him once more with double the strength.

He wondered how she could have so much force in her petite body.

'What do you want?' he asked impatiently.

'I thought you'd figured it out by now,' she said, turning his face around.

'You're kind of crazy, aren't you?' Trent asked, faltering.

'Kind of? You don't know the rest. Or maybe you don't want to. Either way, you should come inside,' she said, inviting him into the house again.

'No thanks, I...'

'Hey, what the hell are you doing with my sister?' he heard a familiar voice shout from afar.

He turned around and saw Tom walking towards him from the garden with blind fury raging in his eyes.

He launched a fist at him almost without thinking, but missed by inches. He would have actually hit Elsie had Trent not quickly covered her at the last moment, receiving the blow right in his stomach.

It was a weak one though, because the minute Tom thought of attacking him, he instantly felt ashamed and angry with himself.

Elsie let out a piercing scream and glared at her brother in disgust.

Tom realized in horror he could have hurt her.

'You giant asshole. I will chop your balls off, first time I get the chance,' she spat coldly, not even raising her voice anymore, as if that one scream had been enough for her.

'He's here to see you,' she added, pushing Trent away from her body violently, as she ran back inside the house, muttering how she was bored with life.

'Trent, are you okay? I didn't realize it was you...I'm sorry, I just flipped...' Tom trailed off, trying to lie his way out of this altercation.

Trent looked at him through narrowed eyes and nodded his head in forbearance, as if to say it was alright now to sit down and talk and he would not resent him for it.

'Your sister's kind of unstable. Can we talk? Privately? It won't take long,' Trent asked him.

'I know what this is about, Trent. But I can't do anything about it. I mean I can only tell you what happened, my version of it anyways, but I'm sure Jane has already explained much better than I ever could and I think it's only fair to let her have her say.'

'I don't understand, have her say in what?'

'In the break up.'

'She hasn't said anything, that's the problem.'

'What? What do you mean? Is she all right?'

'Not exactly. Emotionally at least. She's been silent for three whole days. Hasn't told us anything.'

'Wait, she didn't tell - ? You mean you don't know? Of course, it makes more sense now. She broke up with me, Trent. That's what happened.'

Trent stared at him perplexed. He thought he had heard wrong.

'I don't...hold on, she broke up with you first?'

'Come on, let's go sit somewhere,' Tom said, sighing in defeat, as he led him up the garden path, literally.

* * *

'...and that's when she stormed out into the night and jumped inside the cab without giving me a single look back. At the time it felt stupid to let her go like that, but it was the right thing to do,' Tom finished, leaning against his overused gum swing.

'So let me see if I get this straight, you came back here after you left my house and the first thing she did when she saw you was tell you she was breaking up because...' Trent recapped in his mind as he swung to and fro.

'...because we weren't working out and everything had gone stale and we were just boring each other and all that. Yes, like I said, she brought no mention of Daria, at first. This was just her finally admitting that we'd become a nuisance to each other.'

'And when exactly did she bring up Daria, again?'

'It was more of an indirect allusion. She said she had been standing in my way and now that she was breaking up, I had full liberties to...pursue any girl I want, _especially_ the one I like.'

Trent shook his head in frustration. Janey was too impulsive for her own good. Always let her head run away with her feelings. Then again, Tom was the same.

'And that's when you thought it was the right time to confess everything,' Trent commented dryly. 'Because nothing could possibly go wrong after that.'

'Hey, I knew I wouldn't have another chance to tell her how I felt about her...and more importantly, about Daria. And I had to let it out, I had to! It was eating at me. It had for a long time. And I wanted her to know the break up wasn't one-sided. It was sick, maybe even selfish of me, but I wanted to confirm her suspicions. I wanted to have that...stupid satisfaction. And I also felt like the biggest jackass. But I never really meant to hurt her, I was just trying to justify myself.'

'And make sure you're not just the guy getting dumped,' Trent commented acidly.

'You think I would use my feelings for Daria just to prove a point to Jane? Sure, I was angry and hurt and maybe even more angry with myself than anyone else, and I might have felt better knowing Jane finally knew, but I would have never used Daria that way. She means too much to me.'

'But you would use Jane to get to Daria...'

'Are you insane? I told her the same thing, I didn't plan for this to happen! I didn't think I'd like Daria, Jane was the coolest girl in the world for me and I...'

'I get it. You just fell for her best friend, because you got bored.'

Tom ran a hand through his hair. 'That's not it. I don't even know why I like her so much, but boredom is not the cause.'

'How can you like her when you don't even know why?'

'Oh, I _know_ why, I just don't see why I like her more than Jane. I can't figure it out, no matter how hard I try. It's just how it is,' Tom replied, burying his head in his arms.

'And you told her everything, you told Jane everything,' Trent concluded flatly.

'Yeah. And she told me she had been expecting it for a while. But that she had hoped it would have come from Daria first. I told her she had nothing do with this, that I was to blame entirely, but...she just ran off, didn't want to listen to me anymore.'

'Christ, this is worse than our last family reunion. And I don't know how to fix this one,' Trent muttered, feeling helpless again.

'Me neither. And what's worse is that I know how you feel and you know how I feel. We're both in the same place. And we both hate it,' Tom told him bleakly.

'Yeah, we do. But you hurt them and you have to help me. You owe me one. After all, you went back on our deal. You didn't break up with her first.'

'Don't you feel bad about that deal?'

'I do,' Trent replied sincerely. 'But I feel worse about this. Here's what we're going to do. You're going to come with me and we're going to have a talk with Jane. We're going to sort this shit out before we make any more mistakes. And you're going to help her see that Daria had no involvement in this and that it was just fucked up karma. Got it?'

'You really think this will work the second time around? I already tried...'

'And obviously failed. You've got nothing to lose. If this doesn't work, third time's a charm,' Trent said, getting up.

Tom was about to get up as well, but paused briefly and looked him up and down with an odd glint of appreciation in his eyes.

'You know, I was wrong about you.'

Trent glared at him. 'Yeah. I was wrong about you too.'

* * *

The only glitch in this newly hatched plan was Jane herself.

When after an hour's drive the two of them found themselves back at Lane residence, ready to make amends, they found out Jane was not in the house at all. And Trent didn't have to break her door down to know, because it was open and she wasn't inside. The kitchen bore signs of her presence. The can of soup had been emptied and a bowl of noxious smelling dye was placed next to a chair, on which hung her red jacket.

Daria called only minutes later. Jane was in the hospital.

* * *

**Okay, for any of you thinking it, no, Jane was not trying to hurt herself like a moron, you'll find out what happened in the next chapter. I just wanted to make that known because I don't want anyone to be upset with this :) Jane is still awesome and she always will be. Speaking of which, you're awesome for reading.**


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm back again! I know it's been a while, but I feel a bit proud that I managed to get this chapter done earlier than I had planned. Originally, I was going to post this around Wednesday (yes, yes, I actually schedule my writing sometimes), but lo and behold, it's Friday night and I'm posting.**

**So as you may have noticed this is a _really, really _long chapter, one of the longest I've ever written for this fic. And it can't be all good, I mean I think I did a pretty decent job, but I don't know, I'm still terribly insecure about it, mostly because...**

**...you guys are the greatest reviewers and readers a writer could have! I feel super-pressured to do my best because I don't want to disappoint you and I really hope I haven't.**

**Millions and millions of thanks and hugs as usual to the people that keep coming back and to all that have just now become acquainted with my story :)**

**So let's begin:**

**TarainthePNW: I don't know if this chapter reveals exactly what's going on in Jane's head, because this story is mostly from Trent's POV, but we'll get into Jane's mindset next chapter and you'll see why. Although I think this chapter does outline some of her thoughts. :)**

**Silver Ame Tsukino: Tom can be a bit of a pain, I agree, but I don't think he's the general bad guy. He has good intentions but they don't always work his way. Of course he's selfish and doesn't understand the consequences of his actions, but I think you'll see he'll do the right thing in the end (next chapter!) and hopefully when I start writing for season 5 (soon!).**

**Shiva the Sarcastic: thank you, I appreciate it :D**

**Conqueror Worm: I think Tom felt he needed to tell her about Daria because if he didn't tell her then he wouldn't be able to another time and he wanted to get that off his chest because he felt guilty. Plus, if you recall, Jane made an obvious allusion to Daria and it sort of triggered his confession. Sure it was selfish of him, but it was also human. And you'll see exactly what happens with Jane when you read the chapter:)**

**Sun-chan1: Nice adjective to describe Elsie, very fitting. When I get to writing the sequel she'll make a couple of appearances there too of course. As will Tom naturally. Speaking of Tom, he's not so bad, and we all know that and you'll see more of it next chapter :) And major props for noticing my little pun :P**

**MissVoiceLess: You'll see what Jane did and didn't do:) And if you're referring to Tom telling Jane about his feelings for Daria, in his defense Jane made a clear allusion to her when they broke up and that made him confess everything, especially since he had just returned from seeing Daria and he felt extra guilty.**

**Wolf-Maiden Mitsuki: I'm happy you like the idea of Tom and Trent having reached a sort of agreement (that's the right attitude), and you'll be seeing more of that soon:) And happy reading :D**

**Hollarious: Okay, you keep pulling at my heart strings:)) Honestly, you make me grin like an idiot. Thanks so much for all the appreciation. I'll probably start writing for the sequel soon and I'm really happy you promise to be on board. Hopefully you won't really have to resort to reading braille:)) Also, I'm glad you like Trent's backstory, because we'll be getting into lots of different backstories for other characters in the sequel. What else can I say except you're amazingly kind and I'm really glad to have you as a reader?**

**ItsalwaysbeenTrentLane: Okay, I love your penname, how awesome is that? It sums up my feelings perfectly. Also, here's the update :)**

**beckysue12121: Stayed up all night? Awww, thanks for the dedication and I'm happy you're into it :D**

**Pingouin: ...and now it's no longer a cliffhanger :)**

**Kiyoikou: Yey, you like Trent's portrayal, so glad! I was aiming for realistic of course, so it's always a relief to hear it's not farfetched or crazy. And I'm always happy to share some Daria/Trent goodness :)**

**Okay I hope I haven't left anyone out, because you're all amazing.**

**Once again I hope this chapter pleases, because if it doesn't, I'll probably go hide under a rock for a while, listening to Simon and Garfunkel.**

**Anyhow, please let me know :)**

**P.S. Please excuse any spelling mistakes, I've proofread the chapter twice now, but not word for word, so if anything slipped, just put it on me being extra tired.  
**

* * *

_17: Dye, Dye, My Darling! (part II)_

'Jesus, Trent, slow down! This car won't go much faster! You're going to get us killed!' Tom was yelling at Trent as they sped through the busy suburban traffic. It was rush hour and the highway to town was clustered with SUVs and large school buses, but that didn't prevent Trent from trying to squeeze his shabby rundown car between rows and rows of vehicles with the dexterity of a blindfolded racer.

'I don't give two shits,' he replied absent-mindedly, swerving dangerously off the highway.

'Well, I do! You're not going to help Jane by getting into an accident!'

'And you're not gonna help her by pissing me off,' Trent rebuked him, gripping the wheel tighter.

'Daria said she was not in danger, she probably just got a stomach bug or the common flu. You don't need to go haywire even if you're her brother,' Tom explained patiently.

'If you keep talking I swear I'll drop you off right here, right now,' Trent muttered angrily.

'Why don't you just tell me what the hell is going on?' Tom asked, getting equally annoyed by Trent's irrational behaviour. 'You can't tell me this is only about Jane.'

'Seriously? You're going to talk about _Daria_ again?' Trent barked, his usually hoarse and guttural voice acquiring a dangerously hysterical pitch.

Tom rolled his eyes.

'Of _course,_ because I'm obsessed with her!' he drawled. 'That's not what I meant! Jesus, just tell me what is going on!'

Trent knew it was useless to hide it from him anymore, seeing as they would have to face the facts when they arrived at the hospital, but he still felt reluctant to share his guilt with a stranger. Maybe he had come to know Tom more than he would have wanted to, but it still felt wrong for him to be there, and for Trent to tell him what was on his mind. He was like an intruder, invading what should have been intimate matters.

'It's my fault she's in there,' he said, breaking his road vision to see Tom's reaction.

'I left her the can of soup. And she ate it. And now…'

'Wait, what can of soup? What are you talking about?'

'Before I left to see you I thought I should leave her something to eat. Yeah, the first time in my life I do something like that for my sister and I end up poisoning her.'

'What do you – '

'The soup had expired a long time ago. Plus, it was Penny's stash and she's always been…off charts. And I knew this, but I just didn't think. I just didn't fucking think.'

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Trent's eyes turned back to the road and Tom shifted in his seat away from him.

'I…well, you know, you can't be sure that's the real reason – I mean, it might be something else entirely,' Tom argued, trying to make things better.

'Come on. The can was open and empty on the table. What else could it be?'

'What else? Isn't your house a walking sanitary hazard? I'm pretty sure a can of soup is the least of your problems.'

'Really now, you're choosing this moment to criticize our house, you're a real help,' Trent drawled annoyed.

'I'm only trying to tell you it's ridiculous to blame yourself for something like that!'

'Hey, if she got food poisoning cuz of me I wouldn't call it fucking ridiculous.'

'Even if let's say that actually happened, you weren't directly to blame. You meant well in your own way, even if it didn't turn out okay. And if we're going to point fingers, I'm just as guilty as you. She wouldn't have been in this state if it hadn't been for me. If I had ended things earlier, if I had told her how I felt, if we had talked about how _she_ felt – '

'Oh _please_.'

'What?'

'Don't tell me you think she suffered from too much heartbreak. She's Janey, not some blowup doll from your choked-up prep school,' Trent replied acidly.

Tom fell back from the sting of his words. He wondered how Trent could be such a low-key person ninety percent of the time and then suddenly turn into this cynical and jaded adult in a split second. Maybe he and Daria did have _some_ things in common.

'No, actually, that's not what I meant, _Trent_. I'm not such an egotistical asshole as to presume that I _literally_ caused this,' Tom spat coldly, 'but she wouldn't have been shacked up inside the house if it hadn't been for the break up.'

'True. Or if you hadn't blabbed about Daria,' Trent added bitterly.

'So then you think it _was_ my fault, after all!' Tom bit back. 'Well, better than you blaming yourself for a stupid can of soup!'

'Hey! She's my sister! She's _my_ responsibility! I have the right to feel guilty!'

'So? I was her boyfriend for a long time! I have the right to feel like a jerk too!' Tom yelled back.

Trent had slowed down considerably and they were now glaring at each other and panting from the screaming.

That's when they both realized how utterly ridiculous their entire exchange had been. They were actually competing over who got to be the bad guy. They might have laughed under different circumstances.

'Fine. You get to be an asshole too,' Trent acquiesced, his shoulders relaxing.

'Well thank you, didn't know I needed your permission!' Tom replied hotly, trying to hide his embarrassment. Trent raised an eyebrow as if daring him to start another argument. That's when Tom's face broke into a smile.

'Okay, I admit that _was_ pretty dumb. I just lost my head and… sorry.'

'Yeah. I got that. Now can we stop this and get to the hospital already?' Trent asked, no trace of anger left in his voice.

'I think that's for the best,' Tom agreed.

* * *

Daria was waiting for Trent at the ER entrance because she knew he would get lost in the maze of corridors and he wasn't exactly the type of person to ask for help.

What she wasn't expecting was to see both Trent and Tom walk through the doors together.

'Daria, thank God,' Trent began as he saw her from afar. It was so good to see her in the midst of all that mess. She was his steady island.

'Trent, you…decided to bring Tom along?' Daria asked, looking over his shoulder.

'Daria, I wanted to come. Sorry about this, I just wanted to see how Jane was doing –' Tom began awkwardly.

'I drove to his house to talk things over like I told you, but I brought him back with me because I thought he could help,' Trent interrupted him.

'So you brought him here to help. That makes sense,' she said dryly. 'Now what's going on?'

'I'll explain later – nevermind that now, how's Janey?'

Daria sighed.

'She's better. The doctors want to keep her under observation for tonight because the fever hasn't broken yet and she still has bouts of nausea…'

'Can we – I mean, can I see her?' Trent asked.

'I think so. She'd want to see _you_. I tried talking to her but it didn't amount to much. I need to give her some space, I guess,' Daria said bitterly.

'She'll come around, Daria, she's just in a bad place right now,' Tom offered.

'No offense Tom, but if she's in a bad place right now, you're not doing anything to help by coming here,' Daria replied curtly.

'It was Trent who thought we should talk this out and I think he's right, Jane and I – '

'Look, you both can talk about this later, I just need to see Jane right now,' Trent said.

Daria would have wanted to say more, but she swallowed her words and told them to come with her.

* * *

On the way, she explained to them that Jane had been in the middle of one of her spur-of-the-moment projects to dye her hair blond and that she had collapsed half-way through. Daria had had the felicitous idea to come over and try to speak to her again. That is how she had discovered her on the kitchen floor.

When they arrived at her ward, she noticed Trent had become more nervous than usual.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, it's just a lot of stuff happening in a short time,' he lied.

Daria squeezed his arm softly, urging him to go in.

'I'll…_we_'ll be waiting here,' Daria said, glancing towards Tom.

Trent nodded and pushed the door open, not looking back to see Daria and Tom sitting down together. She would tell him about their conversation later and he would be glad to know that Tom had tried to make things right with her, but right now, all that he could think of was Janey and how he had not been there, how he had let her down.

It seemed that his entire world had focused on one bright spot in front of him; a door opening to the bright sun of an early spring morning.

The light of dawn was cold on his shoulder as he stumbled down the pavement towards his house. He couldn't walk straight and he certainly couldn't think straight either.

He was eighteen and he'd just come from another late night out 'practicing' with his new band. He stepped inside and the first thing he saw was Janey sitting on the couch in front of the TV, staring at the screen absent-mindedly. Her eyes were red and bleary.

'Yo, you're up early,' Trent said as he passed by casually.

'I couldn't sleep,' said the eleven year-old girl, watching him warily.

'Why not? Mom drinking in the kitchen again?'

'No. She left last night with dad. They had camping plans. Last minute thing. Wind went out and never came back. Um, I think he went to settle his…bank account? I don't know…'

'Wait. You were left alone then? No one's in the house?' he asked groggily.

'Yep. And I was too scared to sleep.'

Trent groaned and placed a hand over his eyes in frustration.

'Crap, I told them I was going out. I told them not to bail.'

This wasn't the first time they had left their youngest child completely alone in an empty house, but every time it happened, it was the same thing. Janey wouldn't be able to sleep at all. Even if she had got used to their spurious take-offs and didn't cry when she saw them pack anymore, she had never got used to the solitude. She had never got used to sleeping alone in an empty house.

'They didn't mean to, I guess. Don't worry. I sat and watched TV and ate all the leftovers from the fridge.'

Trent went over to her and sat down on the couch, pulling his arm around her tiny frame.

'And you didn't get sick?'

'Nah, I drank a lot of water, so it's all good.'

He smiled half-heartedly and placed his thumb over her red cheek. That's when he noticed she was very warm. He placed his palm over her forehead. She was burning, all right. And it was not one of her usual 'too many chocolate bars for breakfast' fevers. She was on fire.

Suddenly he could think straight again.

'We've got to take you to the hospital,' he mumbled and scrambled up, looking for the phone so he could call one of his band mates who had a car.

Seeing as he had wasted an entire night with them in Degas, downtown, they were just as knocked out as he was, even worse, since none of them actually bothered to answer.

He checked his pockets for money. He had spent it all, of course. He only had some dimes left.

He started looking for some money in the house. Surely they had to have something saved for such cases.

'Janey, do you remember where dad stashed his cash?' he asked from the hallway.

'I don't know, maybe in the attic?' she answered hoarsely.

'He wouldn't be that inventive,' he mumbled to himself. 'If I don't find anything, I'm calling the ambulance.'

He gave up his search at length because even if there was some money left in the house, it was not worth wasting time on it when Jane was feeling ill.

He called an ambulance and told them the address, all the while taking out fresh clothes from Jane's drawer and placing them in a backpack, inwardly cursing his parents for being completely useless once again.

'Janey! It's time to go! The ambulance will be here soon!' he called out to her.

Silence.

She probably had no strength to talk anymore.

But when he climbed down to the living room, she was nowhere to be found.

'Janey?' he called again.

No answer again.

'Janey where are you? Come on, this isn't funny.'

His sister had a knack for playing hide-and-seek all the time, even when they were in the middle of a conversation. She would run off mid-sentence and disappear for an hour or so, hidden in some remote part of the house, hoping someone would find her and drag her back. He always did, eventually. But he didn't always go after her. So she mostly played hide-and-seek by herself.

This time though he knew she wouldn't be able to hide so effectively if she was barely standing.

He called out again. Nothing.

Then he remembered her having mentioned the attic. She must have gone up to look for the money.

He climbed back up again and found that the closet door to the attic was open.

Trent found his little sister sitting in the middle of half-burnt film rolls and boxes filled with clothes and Christmas decorations, large heaps of candy wrappings and broken wind-chimes.

She was crying silently, tiny, white tears falling rapidly down her cheeks.

He came closer.

'Janey? What's wrong?'

That's when he saw it. The mass of orange-brown fur and dried blood next to her feet.

He bent down to see the still decomposing corpse of a dead animal. It was a cat.

It looked as if it had been smashed to death with a hammer or something equally gruesome.

But that is not what set him off. The image was brutal and blood-curdling, but what got to him was the small red ribbon around the cat's neck.

He knew that ribbon. It was Jane's.

She had found it in their back yard three days ago, looking for food and shelter and she had taken it inside the house. She had never had a pet before which had made it all the more exciting. She had bathed it and fed it, had found it a nice cushion to sleep on and had even given it a name. He couldn't recall now. But he recalled her having taken one of her ribbons and tying it around its neck like she had seen in the Disney movies.

He also knew their mother never allowed pets in the house because she said animals should not be imprisoned. She claimed they should never be kept inside against their will. And whenever they protested, she would tell them the butterfly anecdote. He wrinkled his nose. He hated that anecdote. She thought everyone was a butterfly.

She had been quite adamant about Jane throwing out the cat. It had been a bit of an argument. Jane had refused, saying she deserved to have a pet for once.

Then Vincent had been dragged into the ordeal, because whenever Amanda had problems with the kids she called for reinforcement. It wasn't that she couldn't handle them but that she didn't _want_ to handle them. Their dad had much more impact on them. He was like a magnetic force they couldn't resist. He could talk them into almost anything when he used that sweet smile of his, the kind of smile that would send girls reeling, the lip slightly revealing the slick of his teeth, the playful dimple in his left cheek, the stubble giving his face a delicate roundness, his voice acquiring a firm but affectionate tone, a drawl full of secret promises, a terrifying but completely effective seduction.

Trent knew this very well, but he also knew that, behind the charismatic personality and the irresistible smoothness, Vincent had a short temper. It wasn't very noticeable seeing as he rarely showed it in front of the family, but Vincent had a knack for burying his problems and holding everything inside until they exploded in some meaningless act of violence. Usually, he would drive off and blow some steam and he would only return when he was calm. He had never laid a hand on or even yelled at any of them, but Trent had caught him once in the middle of the night chopping down one of the trees in their back yard. When he had asked him what he was doing, Vincent had half-muttered, half-growled that children who stayed out of bed got in trouble.

That is why upon seeing the remains of Jane's cat, Trent couldn't help but suspect this was his work.

Vincent had promised Jane the previous day that he would let her keep the cat, but on condition that he let her take it to the vet for a shot. Their mother had been strangely cooperative about this and now Trent knew they must have had some understanding that he would get rid of it, otherwise she would have put up a fight.

But not even Amanda could have predicted this.

'N-Nippers? Nippers! Nippers!'

Jane's sudden scream of agony broke through the invisible glass walls around them, cracking the surface of their carefully constructed universe, shards of what used to be their comfortable reality flying everywhere, cutting through him, leaving him barren and homeless.

'Why are you dead Nippers? Why?' she cried, hovering over him, stroking what was left of his tail, the only part of the body that wasn't minced meat.

Trent put a hand over his mouth. The smell combined with the image made him sick, sick with anger, sick with life, sick with everything.

He was eighteen and he had seen enough. There was nothing left to see once you saw your sister crying over the splattered brains of a dead cat.

That was the only moment when he had considered killing someone.

It had passed, the feeling had passed. But the urge had been there, the urge to hurt back.

He knew the only pure creature left in the world was his little sister. And they were trying to make her see the ugliness, to convince her to give up, because no matter what she did, she would end up in the dirt, with everyone else.

They heard the ambulance stop in front of their house. Trent placed his arms around her and lifted her up gently, letting her cry into his chest.

He climbed up into the ambulance with her and she cried all the way through, not once tearing herself away from him.

'I should've been there, Janey. I shouldn't have left you alone,' he muttered in her hair.

He blinked several times before the film of his memory faded in the back of his head and his eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the ward.

There were five beds, each surrounded by white curtains. The very first one had the curtains drawn up slightly to reveal a young girl with part black, part orange, part yellow short frizzy hair, lying in bed, watching him with painfully sharp blue eyes.

Trent went over to her and sat down at the foot of the bed, staring at her small white hands clasped over the blanket.

She didn't look frail, only a bit lighter. She was slightly sallow, her eyes a bit sunken, her cheeks a bit pinker than usual. She was obviously still quite warm. The multicolored hair seemed like a scant detail.

What made all the difference were her lips. No lipstick for once, which felt incredibly unsettling. The last time he had seen her without lipstick he'd been around twenty. It was her trademark, dark crimson lipstick.

'Janey…what happened? What've you done?' he began, looking at her hair.

She remained quiet for a while, watching him intently.

'I don't want you to be upset with me,' she said at length. 'I was afraid you'd be. But I'm fine. I didn't try anything, I swear. You know I'm not that kind of person.'

'I didn't think you'd try anything – I was talking about your hair actually,' he said, trying to smile.

'Oh, _that_. Well, you know me. I break it off with a guy and I instantly have to reinvent myself. Start a new life. Move to a new city as an undercover agent, study Japanese and make business friends…' she trailed off, chuckling to herself. 'At least that was my brilliant plan until my love decided to betray me.'

Trent raised an eyebrow.

'Your love?' he asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the appellative. Not that he didn't love Jane with all his heart, but was he really her love?

Well, she didn't have many to choose from, did she?

'Yeah, just stabbed me in the back,' she replied calmly.

'Janey, how can you say that?' he asked bewildered, feeling his blood pulsing through him. 'I swear I never meant for this to happen! You know I'd never do this on purpose - you think I'd really be that careless around you? Sure, I know I fucked up in the past, but I didn't have anyone to guide me back then. I was selfish and I hoped _they_ would be there for you, so I wouldn't have to. I was a dumbass, I was naive and I thought everything was fine. But it wasn't, it never was. That time when you were eleven, that wasn't fine, that wasn't fucking fine and Vincent – '

Jane sat up quickly and put her hands over his arm.

'Whoa, whoa, Trent, calm down, what are you talking about?'

'No, I can't be calm. I can't accept it. I should've done something. I don't know why I haven't done it before, but I swear I will throw it all out on the kerb, all his useless shit, all _their_ useless shit, I'll get rid of it for good, so this never happens again. Because it's _our_ house. Because we don't need them.'

'Jesus, Trent, slow down! You're freaking me out! What is going on? Why are you being like this?' she asked, her eyes suddenly becoming heavy with tears.

'It's just that I feel guilty and I've been feeling guilty for some time and I didn't know, until now, what was this feeling in my gut that kept torturing me. I couldn't look at you sometimes. But seeing you here, knowing what happened, I can't hide it anymore, I feel responsible. It's my fault,' he said, his voice going weak, his head hung low.

Jane was rendered completely silent by this sudden declaration. She was at a loss for words.

Her hand found his cheek.

'Trent.'

'It's no use Jane. It's never been just me avoiding things. It's never been just me sleeping through everything. It's been me feeling too bad to do anything about it.'

'But Trent, you've done so much, you're doing so much now, you're here, and you've always been here when I needed you.'

'No, I haven't.'

'Says who? I've never felt your absence.'

'Don't lie to me.'

'I'm not! Even when you're away, I know you're the only one thinking of me. The only one I can trust.'

'Then do you believe me when I said I never meant for this to happen? That I never meant to be the cause of this?'

'The cause of this? What are you talking about? I know you weren't! How could you be?'

'But it was my fault.'

'Your fault? How? You didn't exactly force me to dye my hair now, did you?' she almost yelled exasperated.

Trent blinked confused.

'What… what do you mean?'

She sighed and rolled her eyes, buttoning down part of her white gown, revealing a great big rash spreading from her neck to her chest and shoulders.

Trent frowned confused.

'That's what cheap, toxic dye will do to you when applied directly to the skin. I was stupid enough to buy something like this from the supermarket down the street. If the dye didn't do its job, the vapors definitely knocked me out. Being malnourished on top of that didn't help. So it's all on me. And the paint, of course.'

'Wait…I don't understand,' Trent began, feeling light-headed. 'You mean…it was the paint? It was the paint that made you sick?'

'What did you think I meant by 'my love'? The one substance I care for more than Coke just screwed me over. How do you think I feel?'

Trent released a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

'I thought…I thought you meant me. I got it all wrong.'

'Obviously. I mean, you? My love? Why would I say that about my dork brother? Unless I was actually comatose,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'Really, Trent, when I have I ever shown you any affection?'

Trent smiled weakly, taking her hands into his.

'I'll settle for this then.'

'If you must. And you're okay, generally. When you don't forget to take a shower. But just okay,' she said, glancing at him lovingly.

Trent chuckled in relief, feeling as if a small weight had been lifted off his chest.

'I thought you'd got food poisoning cuz of that can of soup I left you.'

Jane wriggled her fingers out of his grip and pulled back the strands of her chaotic hair.

'Seriously? You thought I passed out cuz I ate Penny's tomato soup? How original.'

'Hey, our home is a…walking sanitary hazard,' he joked, repeating Tom's less than subtle words.

Jane snorted amused.

'Is that why you were so worked up?'

'Partly. There are other reasons, but they can wait. I mean you're in a freaking hospital.'

'Yeah, well, this still beats Lawndale High.'

'Um, will you be okay?'

'Course I will. What, did you think you could get rid of me so easily? Well, sorry to disappoint but you're not getting the upstairs bedroom,' she quipped playfully.

Trent pulled her into a tight hug.

'Let's not get too mushy, all right?' Jane's muffled voice spoke over his shoulder.

He pulled away and smiled fondly at her ridiculous hair.

'I sorta like it.'

'I sorta _don__'__t_, so you'll have to help me get it back to normal.'

'No problem.'

Jane settled back on her pillow, her smile fading slightly as she recalled his words from before.

'What did you mean…when you said those things…about dad, and me being eleven?'

Trent's face fell as he realized he had unfortunately mentioned one of the most painful family memories they shared together.

'Forget it, Janey, I didn't mean to upset you, I just got angry when I remembered something…'

She paused for a moment.

'I remember it too, you know. I still do,' she said. 'But why would you remember it now?'

'I…I don't know. Seeing you here alone, knowing I hadn't been there for you sort of brought it back. It's not like that was the only time I was absent, but that time was so much worse. I can't get over the shock of that…' he trailed off, not wanting to mention the cat, 'that moment in the attic. The ugliness.'

Jane smiled bitterly.

'I haven't either. Not entirely. But I don't let it get to me anymore. I've stopped caring about dad or what he did, or what he'll do. That way he can never hurt me again.'

Trent mulled over her words in silence.

'I think he stopped caring too,' he said at length. 'No one cares about anyone in this family, do they?' he asked sadly.

'I don't know. Maybe we've got them all wrong. Maybe they're actually decent people and we can't see it. Or maybe they're just as bad as they seem. But at least I know one thing. You care and I care. We care about each other. And that's enough.'

Trent's entire face lit up at her words. He nodded firmly.

'And…Trent?'

He raised his head.

'It wasn't your job to be there all the time. It was theirs. You were a helpless kid, you couldn't help being absent. I'm actually surprised you were there sometimes.'

Trent was about to open his mouth to reply, when Jane placed her hand over his lips.

'And please don't say that from now on you'll always be here and that you'll never leave me or some sappy shit like that because I know you can't keep that promise and I really don't want you to. I like being by myself sometimes, and I like not knowing where you are at one in the morning so I can bust you for it later. So we're not turning into the Brady Bunch okay?'

Trent grinned.

'I was actually going to say thanks for giving me some credit, but I guess you gave me more than I can take.'

Jane hit him over the shoulder. 'Watch it.'

They stayed in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's presence for as long as possible before the real world collapsed around them and reminded them that they'd have to move on.

'Jane,' he began warily, 'I know you don't wanna talk about this right now, but maybe it's time you talked to Daria.'

The atmosphere changed instantly.

His sister shifted in her bed and turned sideways, trying to avoid the subject.

'I know you two have been going through a rough patch but it's really stupid for you to keep fighting.'

'We're not fighting. We didn't even have an argument,' Jane replied coolly.

'Okay, but giving someone the silence treatment still counts as a fight.'

'Sorry if I didn't wanna spend time with the girl my exboyfriend is madly in love with.'

Trent coughed nervously.

'I wouldn't put it like that exactly. I doubt he's…madly in love. He just has a crush on her. A _big_ crush.'

'Right and that's supposed to make me feel better how?'

'Look, you have the right to be angry with Tom, but you guys broke up because things weren't going okay, not because he had a thing for Daria. Am I right?'

Jane narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

'How do you know all this? Last I checked, I didn't tell you.'

'I…sort of talked to Tom. And he's…sort of here.'

'Sort of _here_? Trent, you brought him _here_?' she snapped.

'You were never going to face this head on. I just wanted you two to sort things out. Look, you broke it off on bad terms and you think you ended things because of Daria but that's not true. You weren't going to come out of your room to talk so...'

'So you thought bringing him here would accomplish that instead. Good thinking, Trent. So is he outside now?'

'Yeah. He's waiting with Daria.'

'Oh, wonderful. You did them a service. He'll probably confess his love for her and they'll skip out of here hand in hand.'

'Janey, are you even _listening_ to yourself? We're all here cuz of you. We all care about you. Daria is sick with worry. And Tom just wants to know if you're okay. This has nothing to do with them. Because there's nothing going on between them.'

Jane still seemed unconvinced.

'She doesn't care about Tom that way,' he reiterated. 'And you of all people should know that.'

'Me of all people? Sorry if I don't exactly read minds. I don't actually _know_ everything that goes on,' Jane retorted.

It seemed all the heartfelt words from before had vanished into thin air. They were having an argument once again. Typical of them.

'I know she cares about me,' Jane began again, a bit calmer, 'I…I care about her too. That's why this hurts so badly.'

Trent rolled his eyes in frustration.

'Look Jane, I can assure you Daria doesn't like Tom. Because she likes _me_.'

Jane opened her mouth in surprise.

'She likes you?'

'That's what I said.'

'Well, gee, you finally discovered she had a crush on you two years ago?' she asked raising an eyebrow.

'I knew about that.'

'And you think she is still into you? After all this time? When you don't even give her the time of the day? Yeah, I'll definitely but that.'

'It's not just some teen crush she used to have in the past. This is different. And I do give her the time of the day. You know we've been…spending time together. Why do you think Tom was pissed? She likes me…and I like her back.'

Jane doubled up. The last bit was new information to her. Startlingly new.

'Wait. You like her back?'

Trent nodded firmly. 'I do.'

You…actually like Daria back?' she asked again.

'Yes.'

'No. Way.'

'Will you just believe me already?'

'I can't! I mean you're you and she's her and…she's not your type. And you barely know her anyhow…'

'I think I know all I need to. And she's not anyone's type. She's Daria.'

Jane gazed at him in admiration. When the hell had Trent done so much growing up?

'But what – how – when,' she began precipitately, 'this can't be true! I would've noticed something!'

'You've been kind of distracted lately,' Trent admitted.

'I can't believe this! I mean all this time I…'

'Hold on, I'll bring her in, she'll want to tell you herself,' Trent interrupted her and opened the doors to the corridor. If this was going to happen, he wasn't going to leave her out of it.

Daria and Tom were just in the middle of a conversation. Tom seemed to be trying to convince her of something, while Daria kept nodding and shaking her head alternately.

When she saw Trent come out she instantly jumped up.

'Come on, we've got to tell her.'

'Tell her what?' she asked although she felt she knew.

Trent only signaled her to come in.

Daria followed him inside meekly, not knowing exactly what was about to happen.

She was glad Jane was more open to seeing her now that her brother was here, but she wondered if facing her with Trent was a good idea, after all.

'Jane.'

'Daria. Trent here tells me you two have been having a passionate affair behind my back,' Jane drawled, as she saw her approach her bed.

Daria was slightly taken aback by the bluntness of her confrontation. She hadn't expected these would be the first words Jane would say to her in three days. She shared a surprised look with Trent. Had he told her _everything_?

'Is it true?' Jane demanded.

'Janey, stop making fun,' Trent warned her.

'Well how am I supposed to call it? Have you two been sneaking around my back or not? Or is it just that she likes you and you like her but you've never _actually_ done anything?'

'Look, Jane, maybe this isn't a good time for confessions, but it is true Trent and I…' Daria began cautiously, 'have become very good friends. And we've been growing _closer_.'

'I can see that. Is that all? Because Trent here swears you still have the hots for him,' Jane said, smirking amused.

She was putting up a front, but she was secretly enjoying this a lot more than she should have.

She was almost convinced Trent was telling the truth now that she recalled all those times she had caught him looking at Daria in a different way or when she'd seen him acting strange around her, but she wasn't about to let Daria off the hook so easily because she'd never seen any indication from her that _she_ still liked him back and she wanted to get it directly from her, because she would finally hear Daria Morgendorffer open up about her romantic feelings towards someone, which was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Not to mention all those years of getting picked on for her relentless yentaing would finally be avenged.

'I wouldn't phrase it like that since I'm not fifteen,' Daria said patiently, watching Trent from the corner of her eye, 'but I can't deny I don't mind his company. I quite like it, actually.'

Trent knew Daria usually had a hard time expressing her feelings privately, therefore having to confess in public that she liked Trent more than a friend was probably a big effort on her part. Admitting feelings in general was a challenge for her.

'You suddenly like him again? Since when? And why would you keep it from me? Why would you hide it? All this time when I told you about my concerns with Tom, why did you not assure me I was wrong? Unless you had an ulterior reason,' Jane replied, staring at her expectantly.

'I'm not exactly comfortable talking about this as I'm sure you know,' Daria muttered, getting slightly red. He couldn't tell whether she was blushing or she was just getting irritated.

'Well, tough luck,' Jane said folding her arms.

'But I'm willing to try,' Daria continued undeterred.

Trent caught Daria's hand in his and squeezed it tightly behind their backs. He couldn't help but feel a little proud that she was making such an effort for him to tell Jane she liked him.

Any other guy would have felt slightly insulted that she was being so distant and cold, but he knew better. Inside, Daria was anything but cold.

'I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't mean to hide it. I just couldn't tell you because I wasn't sure of myself…of how I felt,' Daria said, trying to calm her breathing. 'I couldn't tell you without knowing for sure.'

'And do you now?'

Daria quickly snuck a glance at Trent. She seemed to find her answer there.

'Yes. I think so. Yes.'

'I do too,' Trent said quietly, feeling her palm trembling in his.

Jane could barely contain the large grin that was threatening to split her face in two. She couldn't play the façade anymore. She was too happy. She was about to jump out of bed and hug them both for being the most ridiculously adorable pair she had ever seen in her life, when she was given the second shock of the day.

Daria had turned towards Trent without noticing Jane. Something in his eyes had determined her to get up on her toes, grab his cheek slightly, and press her lips quickly over his.

It must have been his blatant affection, his radiant smile, the relief in his eyes to know she was there with him and they were both in it together.

One of these or all.

Then again, Trent thought, there were few challenges Daria couldn't overcome and showing her feelings wasn't one of them. She was incredibly ambitious when she wanted to be. She would go to great lengths when she actually cared.

So the moment she touched his face he was shocked, but he was also proven correct. She would surprise him every single time and he would expect her to do it, every single time. He somehow knew it deep down, that she was never going to be the same, despite the front of impassivity she put on for everyone else. She was carefully and quietly unpredictable.

He melted under her touch as he knew he would.

When their lips touched, he wasn't quite ready so of course it was clumsy and she ended up kissing his chin too, but did that really matter?

It was a jolt of electricity that could have fuelled the entire hospital. He had always pictured her lips as soft but still unrelenting, sweet, but still salty. He had been right. It was so organic and real it was almost scary.

She was just about to pull away, having exhausted most of the courage she had summoned, when his hands encircled her waist and he pulled her towards him quite suddenly, almost making her lose her balance, as he crushed his lips hungrily over hers, having been denied this moment for far too long.

Her heartbeat, which was racing already, went into overdrive and she would have shyly placed her hands on his shoulder and continued the kiss, if only for another second, had Jane not started coughing loudly.

They had momentarily forgotten about her, which didn't usually happen.

They broke apart embarrassed. Daria's lips were slightly red. She placed a hand over them, trying to hide what she was feeling. In vain though. Everyone could see it.

'Wow. Okay. You _definitely_ like him,' Jane told Daria, staring at her in astonishment. 'I'll never question that again.'

How could she when Daria had never done anything remotely similar to this in the past? She must have felt something really special if it had led her to do something as incredible as this. But it had taken two years, after all. It was about time, wasn't it?

She was looking at her best friend in a completely different light, a light she never thought she would see her in. She realized she didn't know everything about her, after all.

Only then did Trent notice the doors to the ward were open and half of the people walking by had witnessed the moment.

And one of them was Tom.

He was still standing there, shell-shocked, trying to grasp what had just happened.

Daria, the girl who almost never went out of her way to show…well anything to anyone, had just kissed Trent in front of everyone. _Had__ just__ kissed__ Trent._

Either this was a fever dream or he had stepped into a parallel universe, but she had actually initiated something. She had actually done it. She had proven him wrong.

After staring at them for what felt like ages, Tom finally blinked and turned away.

He had to clear his head. He had never finished that conversation with Daria. He would have to do it later. For now, he needed to accept the fact that she had just kissed Jane's brother. And that she would never really like him that way, because she would never do the same for him.

He would have to do his best to crush the feelings of disappointment and jealousy. Or try to, at least.

* * *

**Okay, yes, I know, that kiss wasn't exactly as epic as you'd imagined, but hear me out!**

** They're Trent and Daria and it was never going to be by the book or even like I'd always pictured it in my fantasies, because reality is different and I feel this is more rewarding. Of course this wasn't completely realistic either, but I tried to make it so that it made sense with the story as a whole, with Daria as a character and with Trent as a character. (And I really think Daria would have the courage to initiate the kiss, because she was given time to adjust and know him and know her feelings and she has a tendency to be impulsive in situations like these where she knows she is limited. Also, a small part of her wanted to shut up Jane too, because she was tired of hiding it. Since this story was mainly from Trent's POV her actions might seem questionable, but that's because we haven't seen her side that much. Although I hope that the parts we've seen show she is capable of this and more.) **

**But do not despair, next chapter we'll be getting a second kiss which will be a lot more intimate and well...a lot more like an epic kiss:P**


	18. Chapter 18

**Wow, it's been ages. I feel like I've grown so much older. College is sucking the life out of me. You know how many times I tried to finish this chapter? And still, there's so much left. I'm really sorry for the delay, guys, I hope I can make it up to you with a loooong chapter and the second long-awaited kiss. I mentioned in my previous chapter that it would be epic, but it might've turned out excessively cute instead. It was epic for me, at least, because it was both fluffy and realistic, from my point of view, but you'll be the judges :)  
**

**A few heads up: This is NOT the last chapter. I still have a bit left to write of an epilogue. Also there WILL be a sequel. Another important thing: this last chapter moves away from Trent's POV, because this is a transition into other POVs. I hope you'll stick with me through the epilogue and the soon-to-come sequel. I promise you will be just as pleased with that story.  
**

**Speaking of which, guys, 19 reviews for last chapters? Gushing! I am so impressed and grateful! Hugs everywhere!  
**

**SSJ04Mewtwo: Yep, Tom isn't very fond of that kiss, you'll read more of that this chapter. Also, there will definitely be an IIFY part to deal with since I have other stories planned for their summer. Plus, I will slowly add other characters into the mix. And I hope this kiss doesn't disappoint.  
**

**Spacey: Awww, thank you, glad it was realistic:)  
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**Silver Ame Tsukino: Well, Jane will appear in the sequel again and we shall see:)  
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**Sun-chan1: Yey, you connected the dots: screwed up family - Vincent - Jane - sleepiness - inability to deal with reality - Trent :) I'm a happy writer now. Thanks for the lovely and substantial review :D  
**

**KittiesofEvil: okay, I guess I shouldn't have worried about that kiss :D it turned out okay. hope you like this one too :)  
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**TarainthePNW: Awww thank you so much, I'm so glad you enjoyed all of it :)  
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**TheVRogue: Hey, glad to have you as reader and happy the story is fresh for you :)  
**

**ItsalwaysbeenTrentLane: Gah, thanks so much :D That's really lovely, that you made an account. Maybe I'll inspire you to write some Daria/Trent stories as well, if you haven't already :)  
**

**loren: hey thanks so much for the compliments, I know it seems odd for Daria to do that, but I sort of get away with it cuz this story, until now, was mainly filtered through Trent's POV so we don't know Daria's side of it. Not yet. Although I feel that after two years of tiptoeing around him and after what I made them go through she would find the guts to stand up to Jane because she has found a new friend and ally in Trent. And she'd affirm that somehow.  
**

**ThatAwkwardChick: thank you! glad to have you hooked! and thanks for sacrificing classes which were probably more worth-while:)) hope you like this chapter as well:)  
**

**Musical Rin: don't worry, new chapter is up :D  
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**Melyssa Mayhem: You can definitely expect the sequel and more awesome Daria/Trent adventures :)  
**

**SireneJaune: sorry to make you wait so long, but now you can read chapter 18 :D  
**

**GreedxEd: happy you want to read more from me, welcoming you to the sequel:)  
**

**Haystacks: Thank you thank you thank you! I do agree he's a neglected character, but my small tribute and our love should push him out of anonymity :)  
**

**Hollarious: Okay, your reviews make me smile so much it hurts my face. They're so well-rounded and complex, they're like tiny stories in themselves. I'm probably repeating myself but you're awesome and I'm really happy you're still reading this story and being so passionate about it. And I totally understand what you mean by Daria and Trent having adorable Valentine's Day kind of chemistry. Actually, the second kiss emphasizes that. Well, there will be other types of chemistry in the sequel, but until then many hugs!  
**

**Mistress Mina: yey, happy that my story's a cure for boredom, mission accomplished:))  
**

**robomon: don't die! here it is!  
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**Starburst731: and here's more and more will come in the sequel!  
**

**Wow okay I hope that's everyone :) Btw, I want to underline this again since I keep mentioning the sequel, this is not the last chapter. There's still a bit to write.  
**

**Also, some parts of this chapter will...surprise/shock you? And you'll wonder why a certain character is developing a story arc. All shall be explored in the sequel to come!  
**

**Until then, enjoy the last (probably) two chapters of this story :)  
**

_18: Dye, Dye, My Darling! (part III)_

'But when did this happen? _How_ did it happen? _What_ changed? I mean, you guys have always been friends and nothing more. I never thought I'd _actually_ ever - and hell, even if I kept pestering you about it all the time, I never even considered that my yentaing would pay off. It was just a game to me, a really mean-spirited game, but a _game_. Oh, now you _have_ to tell me everything! I need to know every single detail!'

Jane was barely able to contain her excitement. She was talking in broken sentences, jumping from one question to another, staring at them as if they were the shiny new toys she had never been allowed to play with. Trent had just managed to convince her to lie down again.

'There isn't much to tell – it sort of happened in the middle of everything else going on,' Daria told her, sitting down on the bed next to her.

'Not much to tell! You guys practically made out in front of me and there isn't much to tell? Are you serious?'

'Well, maybe there's a little to tell,' Trent acquiesced reluctantly.

'Were you seeing each other behind my back?' she asked.

'We…met a couple of times on our own. Remember the time when his car broke down? Or Brittany's party?'

Trent knew that voice. Daria's uneasy voice. He knew what it meant. She did not want to share everything with Jane. For once, she did not want to tell her _every_ single detail. And he understood why. Jane wasn't part of this, _they_ were. She shouldn't be involved on a deeper level; she shouldn't be made privy to certain aspects of their relationship. Some things had to be kept between them. Otherwise they'd lose what made it special to begin with.

'Oh yes, how could I forget such momentous events?' Jane drawled sarcastically. 'You know I never pay attention to technicalities. And if I recall right, I left you two alone on both occasions. So basically, you were together whenever _I_ wasn't around. I can't believe I didn't notice something _that_ obvious.'

'It's better that you didn't, otherwise we would have never gotten started,' Daria remarked dryly.

'But _how_ did I not see it? How did I not see you two were forming a bond behind my back?'

Trent wrinkled his nose in annoyance. 'It wasn't like that. We didn't plan to sneak around or hide from you. It just happened. Separate from you. I have my own life you know, Daria too.'

'Okay, I get that, but I feel I should have known either way.'

'Why? It's not like she was seeing _Tom_ behind your back,' Trent replied impatiently.

The white elephant in the room had finally been acknowledged. The air changed immediately.

Jane's shrewd smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared.

She shifted away from them, almost as if she did not want to talk about that _yet_.

'I know as much,' she mumbled, looking away.

Trent sighed tiredly, knowing things could only go downhill from here. How _do_ you make two very stubborn people talk to each other about their feelings?

'I know how you felt,' Daria suddenly said, her voice stern and sad.

'You were jealous. Really jealous,' she continued, staring into her eyes. 'You thought Tom and I liked each other. And you thought we were planning on getting together as soon as you were out of the picture.'

These simple, blunt words made Jane shrink more than any shrill accusation.

'I – I'm not. Not anymore. I _was_ jealous, but I'm not anymore. But I'm not insane, Daria. I'm not that blind. He seemed – he liked you a lot. He still does. And he never tried to hide it,' Jane said bitterly.

Yes, that had always been Tom's mistake, Trent thought to himself. He had always worn his heart on his sleeve and he'd never apologized for it, because _he_ was the blind one.

'I was prolonging the inevitable, staying with him, he was going to go after you at some point,' she added, clenching her fists.

Daria frowned displeased.

'You're not insane, you know. Tom liked me. That much I can admit now. It was obvious.'

Jane blinked in confusion. She was genuinely shocked that her friend, the one who had always rejected this possibility so adamantly, was finally coming to terms with it. A week ago, you would have never been able to get Daria to admit it, but as she snuck a glance at Trent, Jane realized he'd had something to do with it.

It was not entirely visible, but she could tell he was proud of Daria. His face usually hid everything so well, but there was that small smile at the corner of his lips. Trent liked this Daria more than the one that hid behind words. No bullshit, no sidestepping, no coddling. She was telling it as it was.

'That, however, does _not_ mean that I liked him back. Or that, at any given moment, I would have jumped in his arms as soon as he had said the word. Of course, when a guy likes a girl, the girl is still to blame. Isn't that right, Jane?"

Jane turned her face away.

'You never even considered talking to me about your suspicions. You just assumed it was a fait accompli. You thought keeping me away was going to fix things. That somehow blaming me for whatever happened between you and Tom was going to ease your conscience, or at least make the break a bit more bearable.'

'I didn't, it wasn't like that! I wanted to tell you, all the time. But I was angry, so angry and I had to be cheerful and chipper every single _day_. I knew I'd lash out at you and I didn't want to fight because then we would've had it out and we would've stopped speaking to each other. And it would have solved _nothing_. The fear of confrontation made me avoid you. I never meant to push you away completely, I could never take that… 'Jane trailed off feeling the full effect of what she had done.

'I'd rather we had fought. And talked it out. Every damn thing,' Daria replied sadly.

'I know. It's…it's so absurd. I kept it from you because I didn't want to ruin our friendship but I was seething on the inside.'

'But you're not seething now, are you? You're secure once more in the knowledge that I'm not after your ex-boyfriend, that I like your brother instead. Everything is going to be okay, isn't it? Balance has been restored,' Daria commented, somewhat bitterly.

'No. It's not,' Jane contradicted, her face betraying the emotions Daria had stirred. 'Balance _hasn't_ been restored. Not at all. I feel horrible. I didn't trust you. You, of all people. No, I'm not just going to forget everything now that you and Trent – I mean I'm happy about you two, but I'm not happy how things turned out. I almost lost you too.'

'Me _too_?' Daria echoed. 'You think you lost Tom?'

'Oh, I _know_ I've lost Tom. I never had him to begin with. Not like he had me. And it's not even his fault or anyone's really. It was our thing, from the beginning. Forcing as much happiness as possible. We could've just been _great_ friends, but nooo…we had to force it.'

'If you were aware from the start I guess I really _was_ just a pretext for you to come to terms with this…mistake,' Daria commented more to herself.

'Mistake. You're right about that. But when has that ever really stopped me?'

She laughed all of a sudden, holding her hand over her mouth.

'Boy, I didn't see how wrong _we_ were together and I didn't see that you and Trent _were_ together. I am _such_ a dumbass.' She grimaced and narrowed her eyes towards the floor.

Daria shrugged her shoulders. 'You're not stupid, you're just human. It's normal to act irrationally. It's in our nature.' She herself had been quite irrational these past few weeks.

'And to think, barely an hour ago I was convinced you and Tom were totally to blame. I'm pretty good at getting things wrong.'

'I can't deny Tom was charming in his own way. And that at one point we became friends,' Daria confessed, after a pause. 'I won't lie. I didn't hate him as much as I thought and he wasn't really unpleasant. I think I wanted him to be unpleasant, so it would be easier. It was hard being stuck between you two, though. I had to be careful all the time. And that just made you angrier.'

Jane snorted. 'Wow. Must've been real hell.'

'I'm not _that_ dramatic,' Daria retorted jokingly and Jane's eyes flickered in surprise.

'It was all right,' she continued. 'I'm…all right. I care about you more than I care about how I felt at some stupid point in the past.'

Jane widened her eyes in disbelief. She was bewildered at this sudden warm response. 'And…you still do? After everything?'

'Sort of. I wouldn't be here embarrassing myself otherwise.'

Trent smiled to himself. He was constantly amazed at Daria's paradoxical nature. Most of the times, she seemed closed off, but she was actually more open than anyone he knew. If you asked her to be sincere, if she knew she could be sincere, she would be so honest and so giving that it would seem unreal. And maybe it was, a little. Half the time you had the impression she was actually rebuking you, but if you had the patience to listen, she'd make you understand how important you were.

'I'm going to go get some coffee,' he interrupted them, feeling it wasn't his place to be there anymore. He wanted to give them some moments alone, to really talk things out and resolve their issues. With him in the room they would not have the privacy and freedom to open up.

Daria looked over her shoulder at him in silent appreciation.

Jane acquiesced as well.

* * *

Tom Sloane was tired. Really tired.

He had had enough of this charade. He had exhausted himself to the point where he no longer cared. He was broken. He probably couldn't even feel anymore. Oh sure, he was being melodramatic, but was it his fault if his mother had raised him on musicals and Masterpiece Theatre?

All throughout the past few months he had constantly shifted between desire and agony. He had liked – maybe even loved – Daria, had gone out of his way to make her see it, had even silenced his nagging conscience and in return he had been given the cold shoulder. Unrequited love was the worst, especially when you never saw it coming. He had taken her recalcitrant looks and caustic rebuttals as her way of adjusting to his presence, but not as flat-out rejection, and for a moment there, he had been certain she liked him at least a little bit, because she enjoyed their verbal sparring and she seemed comfortable around him. She even became partial to spending time together as she gradually stopped being passive-aggressive whenever he was around. But then everything had to fall apart, as it always did.

They were fine, they had even become friends, Jane was happy, Daria was content and he for once felt he was in the right place. But then the old flame started stirring things up inside and he found he couldn't help himself. He knew it wasn't enough for him, that being friends with her wasn't going to be enough. That is when things started to shift, that is when he began to take small steps in the wrong direction. Suddenly Daria was staring at him with that accusatory look in her eye that told him to stop, that whatever he had in mind she wanted him to stop. But at the same time, she wasn't saying anything else, she wasn't approving or disapproving, she was just watching him with concern and distrust. And there was interest in there too, definitely curiosity. (That had been his undoing. He had misplaced her curiosity for something much more substantial.) From his skewered perspective, Daria seemed on the fence about it. She was waiting for him to either confess, or give up. She wasn't about to admit she liked him, but she wasn't about to let him know she didn't, either. That is why he had been fooled into believing it in the first place. She was just letting him take the blame for everything.

And it wasn't fair! Matter of fact, it was ridiculous! He wasn't a Disney villain for Christ's sake! He had tried so many times to get her out of his head and had not _once_ forced himself on her. How could he have ruined things to such an extent? What had triggered everything? Had he done it unawares?

No, he'd been fully conscious the entire time. He'd been doing this, fully aware that he had a girlfriend.

There, that was the glitch. The whole glitch.

He had yearned for someone else and he had played boyfriend for Jane at the same time.

And the worst part was that he didn't feel one bit guilty.

There was not a shred of remorse in his body.

His mental discourse was protesting, of course, trying to evince some form of inner conflict to justify his lack of reaction (_It isn't as simple as that!_ _It's much more complex. I liked Jane too, I liked her a lot. I cared about Jane. I – I really wanted her. No, no, no, not just at first! Stop it! I know it was my fault! I know!), _but he was only trying to find some purpose for his emptiness. He was supposed to feel remorse. He knew that because it was the right thing to do and he didn't want to be a bad person. And yet.

He couldn't come to terms with it. He had foolishly believed from a young age that an entire past history of good deeds and decent behavior could miraculously exempt you from becoming an asshole. It was something like a bitter awakening to realize that being a jerk came so easily to him. That he was so unfeeling, so unchanged. It wasn't always a premeditated act, but he had as much potential to harm someone as any other person on Earth, no matter how smart or rational he appeared to be.

And appearing rational was not actually being rational. He had never been very rational. It took some effort to sit down and analyze everything in the cold light of reality and still come out of it mentally stable. He had the capacity to do it, of course, to go beyond the surface level, but he had little strength.

The words were already clearly formed in the back of his head, but his pride refused to let them come out.

He was angry because Daria didn't love him back. He wanted her to love him back.

Oh, sure, he had meant what he'd said to Trent. He had never meant to hurt Jane (that much was true), he had never meant to _stop_ liking her, he had never meant – but people didn't have to mean in order to _do_.

Now that it had happened, there was almost no point thinking about it anymore. He had struggled in vain to make it about Jane and not about Daria. He had really tried and he was still trying to feel bad about what he was supposed to feel bad. But his feelings always reverted to the kiss.

Daria, on her tiptoes, her hair falling back like a curtain, pulling Trent down to her level, like a girl who knew what she wanted. And that wasn't him. Would never be him.

It was going to be Trent.

_Oh, Trent._ Trent. Trent. Trent.

The guy he thought would never stand a chance. The guy who could barely hold a gig. The guy who didn't even know how to take care of himself, much less his sister. The guy Daria had had a crush on. Jane had told him about it late one night and they had laughed it off. _What_ had Daria seen in him?

It had taken him the last three weeks to find out, because he had never bothered before. But Trent Lane was actually someone else. No, not the nice, easy-going guy with a mellow attitude and a simplistic understanding of life. That was someone else. This guy was a pain in the ass, a pretty persistent pain too, despite his general display of indifference.

He wasn't going to stand here and praise him, though. No way. He was annoyed with his sudden clean act. Trent, the guy who, somehow, against all odds, met Daria's expectations.

Tom groaned and sat up on his bed. What a load of horseshit. Sure, he was on a roll now, but pretty soon he'd lose steam. He didn't want to see it happening, but he knew Trent wasn't really an achiever.

But then again, wasn't Daria the same? Didn't she always preach self-complacency? Wasn't she always against making an effort? She probably valued non-achievers.

It killed him that someone like Trent was what she really wanted, not someone like him, someone who would be perfect for her, someone who would understand every single damn reference, every dark joke, every contour of her sarcasm, every line of her face. And he could do self-complacency, he could be a burn-out for her.

But he wouldn't be given that chance.

_Get your shit together, she's not your future wife, you dumbass, _he berated himself.

Why was he so hung up on her anyways? She was just some dork with a good head on her shoulders. Was she really that one girl you never get over? That one girl you can't shake off, no matter what?

Would he grow older and still remember her as his first real love?

Oh, God, how stupid. Even he didn't believe that.

You rarely get a _first_ love. And if you do, it's a selfish love. You've just fallen in love with yourself, with the best part of yourself, not someone else, not really. And you pour all your dreams and fantasies into this better version of you. And that's all.

Reality hit him like a ton of bricks. He might've loved Daria, but he definitely loved himself and – well, maybe he cared about Jane a little bit too.

He still couldn't feel remorse.

He had to talk to someone about it. He had to relieve himself.

But who would listen without judging him? Who would freely want to hear about his shit?

His parents? His classmates? Stan or Roger? Elsie? Jane? Daria? Trent?

He turned on the other side of his bed, staring at the nightstand watch in disgust. He was pathetic. He was sulking like an idiot, lying there like a victim, like he had been the one treated poorly. He was angry and unrepentant and that angered him even more.

It was night time and he still hadn't done a thing.

A random thought crossed his mind. Maybe Daria had got home.

Sure, it might be a stupid idea, the worst idea in fact, but he had to start somewhere, he had to do something to get out of this state.

He picked up the phone, feeling torn between dialing and hanging up. Eventually, it started ringing.

If her mother answered he would have to make up some excuse. But what if she answered herself? Would he have the guts to…?

'Hell-o?' a groggy, sugar-coated voice answered instead.

He froze.

'Stacey, is that you again?' the voice asked impatiently. 'How many times do I have to say it? I told you I'm okay! I know I sound really weird, but I just got off the phone with Sandi and we yelled at each other _again_, for no reason, and now I don't even know about tomorrow –'

'Uh, excuse me, is this the Morgendorffer house?' he asked warily.

The other voice halted to a stop immediately.

'Who is this? Why didn't you say you weren't Stacy? Were you eavesdropping? Are you one of Sandi's boyfriends?'

'Uh, no, I don't even know who that is, frankly. I only called to –'

'Then why didn't you say so? You just let me talk like an idiot for no reason?' she bellowed, a tremor in her voice.

'No, I just didn't have a chance to say any –'

'Who even does that? Do you realize how _creepy_ that is?'

Tom sighed. Daria's sister. What were the odds?

'No, I guess I _didn't_ realize,' he drawled, knowing he'd better not reason with Quinn Morgendorffer of all people.

'Well? Are you going to keep the line busy? Or are you gonna hang up? We're not buying anything,' she retorted snarkily.

Huh, Quinn really was in a foul mood, he thought.

'It's Tom actually,' he said, feeling stupid. 'Tom Sloane. Is Daria home?'

'Tom? Should I know you or something?'

'It doesn't matter, is Daria home?' he asked impatiently.

'Wait, Tom Sloane… why does that sound familiar?' she asked demurely. 'Hmm, you're not Jane's brother, that's Trent –'

'Also my last name isn't Lane,' he added in what he believed to be a logical assertion, but Quinn immediately retaliated:

'That doesn't prove anything, Sloane could be a middle name.'

'Really? A middle name?'

'The Lanes _would_ come up with that. They're total nutcases.'

'Well, it's not, and I doubt anyone would think it is.'

'_I_ thought of it and I'm not _anyone_! Oh wait, Sloane? You must be Jane's rich boyfriend!' Quinn surmised victoriously.

'I…would really choose a different wording for it, but sure.'

'So, what do you want?'

Tom rolled his eyes. He had stated it quite clearly.

'I'd like to talk to Daria. Is she home?'

'What do you want with Daria?'

'That's not really your business, I'm afraid,' he countered.

'Not my business? Not _my_ business?' she repeated bewildered.

'Pretty much.'

'But _you_ called me, not the other way around. If you want me to tell you _anything_ –'

'Look, this really doesn't concern you.'

'Well, then, I guess I'll just hang up since nothing concerns me apparently!'

And she did. She actually hung up. Quinn Morgendorffer hung up on him. And he had never even really met her. And she thought Jane's family was off the rails.

He put the phone down and went over to his computer.

Maybe he would email her. Or drive straight to her house.

After a couple of moments, his phone started ringing. He eyed it suspiciously. That wouldn't be Quinn yelling again, would it?

'Yes?' he answered.

'Yeah, hi, I'm sorry for earlier, I am not really feeling okay, so I might have snapped at you. It's just the Fashion Club driving me crazy again. Sandi is keeping me in the dark about something so when you said it's not my business I remembered what she said - of course, you don't know anything about that so why am I even telling you. Oookay, I'll let you say what you want to say now, just make it quick,' she rambled breathlessly, her voice a pitch higher than before.

Tom eyed the phone in confusion. He was glad Daria and Quinn weren't really close. He had luckily avoided many such encounters.

'Okay…no problem, I guess? I told you, I just wanted to know if Daria was around.'

'She's not back yet. She's gone out with Jane, I think. Why aren't you with Jane anyway?'

'We…it's not that important. Jane and I had an argument and I just needed to talk to Daria,' Tom said, trying to give away as little as possible.

'Well, she's not here right now. But Daria is the last person to come and talk to. She gets so sensitive about Jane. It's bad enough she doesn't like you all that much, she gets worse when your girlfriend gets upset. And I'm already up to here with all the drama. What argument did you have anyway?'

Tom wondered if she was really talking to him, or if she was just babbling to herself. She was obviously pissed off.

'Didn't you just say you were up to here with the _drama_?'

'Yes and your point is?'

'Why would you want to know?'

'What's it to you?'

'That's not fair. You're the one being overly curious.'

She huffed. 'That is sooo typical. Daria never tells me anything either and then mom and dad expect me to be there for her all the time. So what am I supposed to do? I do what I can. And I'm not curious, _you_ brought it up in the first place. Am I not allowed to ask or what?'

Okay, Tom was beginning to develop a headache at this point.

'Look, could you please tell Daria when she returns that we need to talk? Preferably alone?'

'Talk about what? Come on, what was the argument?' Quinn insisted. 'What happened?'

Tom shut his eyes in frustration. 'Nevermind. I'll come by and tell her myself tomorrow.'

'Jeez, you're so persistent!'

'I'm persistent?' Tom asked incredulously. 'Seriously?'

'Well if you _must_ come, do it after six, that's when the final stages of the Blush-a-thon conclude. If you decide to come earlier I'll just keep you out,' she replied in a business-like manner, the way she'd heard her mother speak.

'That's too bad, I was actually going to come right at the beginning, I wouldn't miss cosmetic rituals of self-mutilation for the world,' he quipped.

Quinn was silent for a moment before she spoke again.

'Ha, ha, that was so clever. No wonder you're in a fight with your girlfriend with that attitude,' she replied.

'Excuse me? You have absolutely no idea why – '

'Well I _told_ you to tell me! But you're being _so_ secretive about it! Secretive is a word, right?'

Tom was about to lose his temper. It would be very likely, if she kept talking.

'I don't know, why don't you go look it up in a thesaurus?'

'Because, _silly_, it's impolite to leave people hanging on the phone, unless it's a dating emergency. Something you probably wouldn't be able to understand.'

'I don't, actually, and I really don't want to.'

'I'm Quinn by the way, Daria's sister, you know me, right?'

He slapped his forehead in disbelief.

'Quinn?' he asked in mock surprise. 'Really? Is that you? I had _no_ idea.'

'Yeah, I figured you wouldn't dare talk to _me_ like that. So what was that argument about?'

Tom dropped the phone and buried his face in his pillow. Wow, and he thought Elsie was bad.

It was close to nighttime when Daria and Trent finally walked through the hospital doors and out into the parking lot.

He was not going to ask her how it had gone, he didn't want to pry, and he could tell she was more at peace with herself now that she had discussed things with Jane. She was her usual impassive self, but a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she looked more relaxed.

Still, he had a creeping suspicion and he wanted it killed for good.

'Trent, I can practically hear you thinking. If you want to ask, go ahead.'

'No, I…I was just looking for the car, really.'

'It's on your left, in clear sight.'

Ah, he was back to his old stumbling self.

'Actually, maybe there are a couple of things,' he said turning towards her, hands in his pocket.

'Jane's going to be okay, we're not there yet and yes, it's still awkward and she's still upset about Tom, but –' Daria began.

'Oh, I know _that_. She won't be herself for a while. She _hasn't_ been herself in a while.'

'That's putting it mildly.'

'…but she's strong,' Trent interrupted her, 'and this will blow over.'

'Yeah, she's much stronger than we give her credit for,' Daria replied, choosing to agree with the first part only.

'She did take your accusations like a pro.'

'Was I too harsh back there?'

'Nah. She needed some straight-talking.'

'Good. I'd hate to have to be sympathetic and understanding. It's highly ineffective,' she replied somewhere between sarcasm and sincerity.

'Completely,' he nodded, smiling.

'So…what were you going to say?' she asked, shifting from one leg to another.

'Not that important now, I guess. We have time for that later…' he trailed off.

'Trent. Tell me.'

'I was just wondering…'

'Yes?' she asked impatiently.

'Are you in? Are you really in _this_? With me? I know or at least I think I know you, so I know you don't do stupid shit for no reason.'

'What the hell are you talking about? And what stupid shit? You mean…us? You define us as stupid shit?'

'No, of course not, that's not what I – look, I don't want you to stick with me because it's a principle, because you promised Jane, because you want to make me feel better –'

'Am I really that selfless to you?' she asked surprised. 'You think I'd go to the trouble of kissing you in front of your sister so I could "cheer you up"?'

'Well, sure when you put it like that...but in the long run - '

'No worries, Trent. I did it all for myself. I never even stopped to consider if you would enjoy it.'

'Are you sure about that?'

'You're asking me if I'm sure that I didn't think of your happiness. Do you realize how crazy that is?'

'It's not, it's just me asking you if you're happy, cuz you should do this only if it makes you feel good, cuz I feel great, awesome even, which sounds really lame, I know, but you should feel the same…'

'Trent, you're killing me here. How many times do I have to say it? I. Like. You.'

Trent's face broke into a grin. 'That has a nice ring to it.'

Daria rolled her eyes. 'You're such a girl. Seriously.'

Trent pulled her towards him.

'First time I'm insecure,' he muttered.

'By the way,' Daria began, trying her best not to get nervous after putting on such a confident front, 'you should stop putting me on a pedestal, because I'll never be more affectionate than I am now, nor will I ever make "an honest man out of you". Just thought I'd let you know.'

Trent chuckled fondly. 'I am aware of that.'

'I'm also not going to hold hands in public, I find it unhygienic and silly. And I'll never dance either, not even slow-dance, well, maybe in your room, but to something tasteful, but preferably no. And I don't know about relationships, I just know they're sort of there. They never did anything for me. You're…the first guy I might be…whatever we're doing. Dating just sounds wrong. But we just kissed so there's…probably more of that coming. Oh and I need reading hours. Plenty. I can watch you do stuff while I read. Or you can practice and I can read, or we can read together. Sometimes I'll ignore you because I'm thinking really hard so when that happens just tell me to stop being an asshole and I'll do it.'

Trent watched her yammer on about what she would and not do in a relationship and he felt like kissing the living shit out of her.

'I guess I'm not getting much out of this, am I?' he asked when she finally stopped.

'No. And I'm not either. You're a complete slacker with a broken down car and a Doors-cover band. We're both on the losing end of this.'

'So, is _anyone_ getting anything then?' he asked, humoring her.

'I'd say the Pizza Place where we're going to waste our best moments,' she quipped. 'Their profit will go through the roof.'

'Well, at least we'd be helping the economy,' Trent agreed, smirking.

'There is that silver lining,' she confirmed.

'There's another one, too.'

'If you're going to say food allergies, I'm way ahead of y-'

And then he did kiss the living shit out of her.

Almost pulled her off the ground too and since she was tiny, he lifted her up easily. Their teeth clashed awkwardly, but they got it right this time, no more chins and noses. And after ten seconds it became more natural. Even Daria, who had never even grasped the concept of movie-kissing, was getting the hang of it. She had to. He was not relenting at all. Not even pausing for her to adjust.

His hands were holding her so tight she thought she might as well combust and she was kind of flying because her feet were not touching anything solid. It came close to that _Wuthering Heights_ fantasy she'd had once in seventh grade. Okay, it was better because Trent had just done something weird with his tongue that had made her shiver.

'Mmm…did you stop by the cafeteria on the way?' he asked, when they parted slightly.

Daria, still in a daze, her eyes shut, mumbled something into his mouth.

'Yeah, chocolate pudding.'

'Thanks.'

They went at it again, for practice.

* * *

_What am I even doing here? What the hell am I doing here? She's not home. What am I doing?_

Tom had been asking himself the same questions for the last forty minutes and despite the late hour and the growl in his stomach, he was going to stand there and keep at it until Daria came home. Because she had to come home sometime. School was over. Had been in a while. And wherever she was, she couldn't stay there forever.

He suspected she was with Trent, because after yesterday there was no way those two weren't – well, at least seeing each other. He really didn't want to confront Jane right now and he knew he would run into her if he tried her house, or even passed it by innocently. It was just his luck.

So now he was waiting in his car, had been waiting for over an hour, like an insane stalker, or one of those sick perverts, waiting for the girl he "loved" to come home after spending time with what was probably her boyfriend.

He wanted to laugh, but he was scared he might actually admit to himself that this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever done. And he didn't really want to admit anything right now.

The Morgendorffer house looked like an empty sanctuary. Sure, Quinn was hosting her Blush-a-thon somewhere inside, but the place might as well be bereft of human life. Her parents were God knows where. They never seemed to be home when their daughters went haywire. The windows looked like giant holes in a large, dusty overcoat. He shook his head. Why overcoat? He didn't know. Sometimes his mind was filled with the strangest imagery.

Maybe he was waiting because he was stubborn. He wanted to have his say. He wasn't going to let things drop just like that. Where did he fit into all of this if he did nothing? He could apologize, at least. Sure, it would sound rehearsed and insincere but he would at least say _something_. He had to approach her somehow.

Would she even appreciate that he had been waiting for so long?

Oh, God, he was so thirsty. He could feel his throat closing off.

Maybe he could knock and ask for a glass of water. Quinn wouldn't be that absurd as to deny him a basic need.

He was about to get out of his car, when the front door was suddenly thrown back and a figure immerged from the hallway, running towards him.

Quinn Morgendorffer, her face as white as a sheet, her hands trembling and her make-up smudged around the eyes and lips, leapt out of the house and dashed towards his car.

She didn't even stop to think. She just opened the door, got in, crouched down and looked up at him with pleading eyes.

'Please, just drive me out of here! Please! I have to leave right now!'

Tom stared at her in shock, his mouth agape.

'Quinn? What's – what's going on? Why are you sitting like that?'

'I can't explain! Just go! Go!'

Tom looked back at the house and saw another girl of her age standing at the door disoriented, calling her name in vain.

'Tom!' Quinn whispered furiously.

He nodded his head, started the engine and drove away as fast as he could, leaving the Morgendorffer house and any hope of meeting Daria that afternoon far behind.

Even when they were already blocks away, Quinn still kept her head down, staring intently at her feet as they drove on.

'You can stop hiding now, you know. We passed your house a long time ago.'

'I know…' Quinn muttered absently. 'Good. Thanks. Sorry. Thanks.'

'No problem, I guess. But why…?'

'Don't. No offense. Just don't.'

Her clear-cut tone was too obvious a sign she didn't want to share anything.

Still, Tom persisted because he realized it must be pretty serious, whatever it was.

'Are you okay? It's none of my business, I know, but you look really shaken. Do you need anyth-?'

'I said no, I don't want or need anything, I told you. I'm fine,' she lied, biting into her lip, turning her head away from him.

Tom felt really uncomfortable driving like this, but if she needed space, he would give her that.

After a minute or two, Quinn finally stood up in her seat. She turned her body towards the window, though, so he couldn't see her expression.

_Should I be concerned?_ he wondered.

It was certainly unexpected. He never thought he'd be driving a teary-eyed Quinn Morgendorffer around town. Especially since last night she had been so rude and demanding towards him.

What had happened? And how could he get her to tell him?

'Um, do you want me to take you somewhere?' he asked unsure.

'No. I mean…no, no point,' Quinn murmured, her face half-hidden by her strawberry hair.

'I could drop you off somewhere, if you like.'

'Oh. You wanna get rid of me already?' she asked, not really caring if that were true. She sounded so exhausted somehow, like she had burnt herself out.

'No, I just imagine you'd wanna talk to someone about…whatever happened. And I could…take you to that person. Because I'm just…I'm really not good at this.'

Quinn sighed in exasperation.

'I didn't ask you to do anything but drive. Didn't tell you to comfort me or talk to me, did I? That's on you. So just stop it, okay?'

The raw emotion in her voice made him start. Something was definitely very wrong here. He couldn't cope with this. He stopped the car in front of a supermarket.

'Oh God, you want me out so badly? Fine! Jeez, you're such a jerk!' she yelled when she saw they had pulled over. She was going to push the door open when Tom's hand came around her arm and pulled her back.

'Quinn, what the hell happened to you? You have to tell me. This is way too serious.'

When she remained silent he insisted. 'Look, I can't keep driving you around like this. You're scaring me. Maybe your parents should –'

'No!' she shrieked in a panic. 'No way! Not my parents. I don't want anyone to know! No one!'

'Wow, wow, wow…calm down, I'm not telling anyone anything. I – I don't even know them. I just figured…'

'Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.' She started hyperventilating, like she was going to pass out soon.

Tom was freaking out by now. He took her by the shoulders and started shaking her.

'Hey! Hey, you're okay, you're okay! You hear me? Calm down!'

'I can't! I can't calm down! Oh, God, I can't, oh God, everyone's gonna know! Everyone!'

Horror was clearly written across her face.

Tom wondered if he should take her to a hospital. He had to do something. He eyed the supermarket.

'Wait here, okay? Please. _Don't_ leave this car. No matter what, okay? I'm getting you some water. Quinn, did you hear me? Quinn?'

The girl looked up unresponsively, but she nodded her head either way, as if she were in a trance.

Not trusting her to stay put, he clasped the seatbelt over her waist and locked the car.

If someone were to find her there, locked up in a vehicle that was clearly falling apart, they would assume the worst. Heck, he'd assume the worst.

But he didn't think about that.

When he returned to the car, he was holding two bottles of water, a bar of chocolate and some napkins. Quinn was sitting in the same position, muttering to herself half-incoherent sentences.

'They're gonna know and they'll be grossed out – I'm not even – Who knows - what she told them - I don't know what to do - God, why?'

'Hey, look, I brought you some water and chocolate. It'll help, trust me,' he said, sitting down next to her and placing the bottle and the bar in her lap.

Quinn stared at them as if they were alien technology.

Tom sighed. He took the bottle from her lap, uncorked it and brought it slowly to her lips.

'Come on, please don't make this harder, just…just try to drink.'

Quinn slapped his hand away impatiently and he ended up spilling half the content on the floor.

'Shit! Now there's water everywhere…'

Good thing he bought the napkins, after all. He started wiping the board and the stick. He kept a spare watch in the opening between the seats. He took it out and shook the water off.

'At least eat some chocolate. Do you want me to take the seatbelt off?'

Quinn shook her head.

'You want me to…keep driving?' Pause. 'Quinn, you gotta tell me something. I can't just-'

'You know what the worst part is?' she suddenly asked, turning towards him with the same bleary eyes.

'What?'

'I didn't pull away.'

Tom scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. 'Sorry?'

'Like not right away, you know? So I...I felt the tongue. Um, like really, really felt it. And she was wearing more makeup than me. So the taste was bad… But just, I didn't – I didn't pull away at first.'

Tom dropped the napkins. 'Hang on, you're telling me…'

He was trying to process the new information as fast as he could. Quinn had been kissed apparently. By a girl. With tongue. And…she hadn't pulled away.

Quinn shut her eyes. 'She just sorta cupped my cheek…and I just let it happen. Oh, God.'

Tom tried to regain composure. He was pretty shocked too. Quinn Morgendorffer? Kissing a girl in her own house?

'She just leant in and pushed me against the sink…' she continued in a hollow voice.

'So…this girl kissed you by force?' Tom asked, feeling extremely uncomfortable and transfixed at the same time.

'That's – that's the thing. She did. She totally…but then, I…Damn it, no!' she suddenly yelled. 'No! I didn't respond! I just stood there!'

'O-okay…'

'Now you think I'm gay, right? You probably do. Ugh, everyone's gonna think I'm gay! And I'm not against that, that's fine for other people, but I'm _not_ gay!' she snapped in frustration.

'Quinn, I don't think you're...I don't think you're gay. People experiment. I'm just surprised, because I didn't expect it to happen to y-'

'So what? So what if I didn't pull away from her? I was shocked! I couldn't move! I couldn't even think! And she probably thought I was into it! Ugh, I hate her!'

'This other girl – it wouldn't be that Sandi you mentioned on the phone?' Tom asked, knowing he might be treading into unknown territory.

A sudden, maniacal giggle erupted from her throat.

'Oh, I forgot about Sandi! I bet Stacey just started crying her face off. She probably confessed everything to her! She probably made up some story about how _I_ kissed _her_. And now Sandi's all oooover that story!'

'So…it's Stacey who kissed you.'

'I'm not that kind of girl, okay? If I wanted to kiss her – but I don't! I kiss guys! I like _guys_!'

'Hey, I believe you, you don't have to convince me! It wasn't your fault anyways. Stacey was the one who…'

'Yeah, _she_ kissed _me_. Not the other way around. She just came in the bathroom while I was trying to wipe off this icky mascara. Really crappy stuff. And she wanted to help me take it off. And we talked about how Sandi is being such a pain in the neck about everything and how she won't let us eat buttered popcorn because she's on a special diet and how she's made us all try out the new sets except for her, because her complexion needs to stay perfect. And then I was holding her hand and she was holding mine, you know, sisterhood, stuff like that, but then she leant in and I just froze – she cupped my cheeks and she just – and I just stood there like a moron! And my tongue might've touched hers and I want to shower, I just want to clean my mouth, because I don't like her that way and she should've known. And it's gross for me, okay? Because I don't experiment, I don't go that way and I don't even kiss a lot, like sure it seems that since I go on a lot of dates that I just go at it like those women in soap operas but I don't do it unless it's special for me and this was probably my first tongue kiss and I hate her so much for this, I really hate her guts right now.'

She exhaled loudly and fell back in her seat, as if she had lifted something heavy.

She grabbed the water bottle and started drinking hungrily.

Tom fell back into his own seat, burdened by the knowledge that Daria's sister had just tongued a girl. He uncorked the second bottle and started drinking.

'But it just bothers me so much that I didn't pull away!' she sputtered suddenly. 'I just wish I could go back in time and push her off.'

'Why?' he suddenly asked, his voice calm and cold. He was reverting back to his old self. No more concern or worry. Curiosity was edging him on, even if he knew he shouldn't.

'Why what?'

'Why does it bother you so much that you didn't pull away?'

'Well, duh! I let her kiss me! It freaking bothers me!'

Tom shook his head. 'No, she kissed you and then you let her kiss you further. So, does it bother you that you didn't hate it completely? That your first reaction was to…let it continue?'

Quinn opened and closed her mouth several times in shock. She was so outraged, so astonished, so angry, she couldn't even move. Her body started trembling.

'How –how –how…' she trailed off, her mind a blank.

'Look, don't get upset, but I think you're freaked out because you…kissed back,' he added, testing the waters.

Quinn threw the water bottle into his face and before he realized what was happening she had jumped out of his car and was half-running, half-walking away from him.

Tom didn't have time to feel angry about the bottle; he got out and started following her.

'Thanks a lot for throwing that in my face, I was just trying to help you,' he shouted after her.

Quinn quickened her pace. 'Stop following me and leave me alone!'

'I can't just leave you here alone in this state. Look, I'm sorry if I was too harsh back there, but I didn't mean to piss you off.'

'I said stop following me, you creep!' she yelled back.

'Then stop running away from me! You're making a scene. Let's just go back to the car and I'll drive you back home.'

'No! I don't wanna go anywhere with _you_!'

'Quinn-'

'God, why won't you take a hint? I want to be alone!'

She started running. Faster and faster. Tom, against his better judgment, pursued her.

They were a funny sight; one running after the other.

'Could you just stop already? I can't run anymore! And I left my car all the way back!'

'I'm not making you chase me!' Quinn yelled between pants.

'Oh, what do you think this is then? My morning jog?'

'Shut up!'

'Quinn, if you don't stop, I'm telling Daria you kissed this girl.'

She stopped so fast she almost tripped over her own legs.

Tom reached her in time to steady her before she actually fell.

'Let go of me! How dare you threaten me?'

'Jesus, I'm not threatening you, Quinn. But I didn't know how to make you stop-'

'So you're gonna tell Daria? Really? That's your big plan? Fine! Why don't you! See if I care! She probably kissed Jane already! Who's she to judge?'

Tom let out a low chuckle. Sweat was trickling down his forehead. He rested his palms on his knees, breathing erratically. He shouldn't have worn his sweater today.

'I can assure you Daria hasn't and will never kiss Jane.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah. Trust me on this. She likes Jane's brother.'

Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. 'That's just a crush. And you don't know anything about my sister.'

'Actually…'

'And what were you even doing in front of my house? Were you spying on us? Are you like a total creep? Are you a pervert? Cuz you sure seem like it to me.'

'Hey, in case you forgot, you hopped in my car, not the other way around,' he defended himself.

'Doesn't explain why you were there in the first place. And then you have the nerve to say I kissed her back?'

'Why are you having this reaction then?' he snapped, getting fed up with her denial. 'If you didn't fucking kiss her back why are you so pissed I even mentioned it? You wouldn't have such a big blow-out over some confused girl kissing you during a make-up session. She probably didn't even know what she was doing. You're acting out because you know-'

'Stop it! Stop talking about it! I don't care! I don't care who kissed who and I don't care if I kissed her back or that she stuck her tongue down my throat because it's still the same stupid thing no matter how I look at it and I can't go erase it now and I will have to live with this forever! Okay?'

Tom shook his head. 'You won't live with this forever, Quinn. This isn't such a big deal. It's just a kiss. Really. It will pass. In time, you won't even remember it.'

'How can you even say that? This was my first tongue kiss and she ruined it for me.'

'You wanna know something big? Like a really big deal? I'm in love with your sister. Yeah, pretty much in love. So there, now we're even.'

Quinn faltered. 'You're…you're what?'

'You heard me.'

'In…in love? But, but aren't you Jane's…?

'Was.'

'You broke up?'

'Recently.'

'And you're in love…'

'With Daria. Yes.'

'Wow…'

'Yeah…'

They stood in silence for a full minute, just staring at each other as if they had just met.

'Does she…does she know?'

'Yes.'

'She does? Seriously? Oh my God!'

'Yeah and she doesn't like me back.'

'Oh. She…_doesn't_?'

'I'm almost sure.'

'Almost? So there's a chance…' she trailed off.

He sighed. 'I don't know, Quinn. I just told you this to get it off my chest, really. I really needed to tell someone. Sorry it had to be you. And like this. I just wanted to let it out.'

Quinn mulled over his words in silence.

'You said we're even now…what do you mean?' she finally asked.

'Well, you told me something embarrassing and personal. So I'm returning the favour. Now you know something about me too…so we're even. So you don't have to feel weird.'

'Oh. But you're in _love_ with Daria… I don't even know what to say…'

'You don't have to say anything. It's good to say it out loud, is all. I've sort of kept it a secret for a while now.'

'For a while? How long?'

'I can't tell exactly. Maybe a month.'

'Wow. That's a lot of time. I mean I would go insane if I had to hide my feelings that long,' she commented to no one in particular.

She almost seemed to have forgotten she had kissed Stacey.

'So you see now why I had to let it out,' Tom replied, smiling sadly.

'But you told Daria too.'

'Well, not technically, but I gave her all the hints. I almost spelled it out for her. She knows.'

'And how do you know she doesn't…like you back? Did she tell you?'

'No…I, ah…she should tell you this. I shouldn't spring this up on you. I inferred it, anyways.'

Quinn shook her head confused.

'I don't get it.'

'Look, this has been a long day. Let's just go find the car. We can get some food and then I'll drive you home. By then I suspect Stacey will be gone.'

'I'll go back to the car, but don't make me go home. Just let me sit there for a while,' she replied quietly.

'Are…are you sure?'

'I need to think about what I'm gonna do, what I'm gonna tell them. They're probably freaking out, calling the police or my mom or God knows – but I can't face them right now. And Stacey, I really don't wanna see her. She's probably told everyone.'

'I'm sure Stacey is just as scared as you are. I don't think she's told anyone. I think they're all waiting for you at home,' Tom reasoned.

'And that's the last place I want to go to, okay?' Her voice started rising dangerously again.

'Fine. Fine, let's just get to the car.'

The walk back was quite painful. Tom was trying not to regret having told Quinn about his feelings for Daria, while Quinn herself was trying to convince herself she hadn't just told Tom everything that had happened. She had to make him take a vow of secrecy somehow. Just like the kiss itself, this couldn't be erased.

They were both ashamed of their confessions.

'I knew secrecy is a word,' she mumbled at one point.

'What?'

'On the phone. Last night. I asked if secrecy is a word.'

'Uh, I don't recall…'

'I did. At one point. You told me to go check a thesaurus.'

'Umm, okay, and? What's your point?'

'I know secrecy is a word. I knew then too.'

'So…why did you ask then?'

'I was just trying to be cute. Cuz it's cute to ask obvious questions…'

'Voluntary stupidity is cute?'

'No…you don't get it. I'm just cute naturally so I feel I have to be cute even when I'm in an argument, or on the phone with a stranger. I have to...insert little things.'

Tom frowned nonplussed. 'You always have to be cute because you're already cute? That…that doesn't make sense.'

'Told you, you wouldn't get it.'

'Still, why are you telling me this now?'

'I don't know. I just remembered.'

'You just remembered?'

'Yeah. You said you kept your feelings a secret. So I remembered.'

The rest of the walk was silent. Even afterwards, things were calm. They just sat in his car and ate the chocolate bar. An hour later he dropped her off in front of her house.

'I'm not going to tell anyone anything. Same?' he asked her.

She agreed, naturally. 'I don't have anyone to tell and there's no reason for me to talk about…your feelings for Daria. But you might…tell someone about my…'

'I won't. I promise. I don't care about it. It's your life.'

'I…can I trust you?'

That was the million-dollar question. If Tom were honest, he would have to say no, she couldn't trust him. He was unreliable and two-faced, not to mention emotionally unstable. Much like her.

'Sure. Why not? I…I hope you straighten this out.'

'And…you don't think I'm gay? I mean that's fine for other people. Being gay. But I'm not. And I don't want you to think that.'

'Why do you even care what I think?'

'I don't. But it still matters.'

'You just contradicted yourself.'

'Please, don't tell anyone. It's important for me,' she insisted.

'Quinn, I am not telling anyone shit. Okay? You could've run up and down this street naked. I wouldn't have told.'

The girl shook her head. 'I can't do this.'

'Do what?'

'Go inside.'

'Uh, you can't just stand on the sidewalk forever.'

'Eh. What about you?'

'What about me?'

'Do you want me to tell Daria you came by?'

Tom lowered his head and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.

'No. There's no point. Plus, that would spoil the alibi, wouldn't it?'

For the first time that day, Quinn almost smiled.

'Thanks, I guess.'

'Don't worry about it.'

Still, even after Tom drove off, Quinn didn't go inside the house. The girl who would enter it now would be radically different. At least she believed so, deep down.

* * *

**Don't forget to review and tell me how weird it is that I'm adding this to the plot :))**

**Oh and more Daria/Trent goodness in the epilogue, I promise, it will be mostly their chapter :D  
**


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